


Compendium Game Route 2018

by merryfortune



Series: Vrains Event Week Fills [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Vrains Rare Pair Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-25 05:54:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 22,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17115680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: Vrains Rare Pair Weeks 2018 entry compilation. Chapter 1 functions as a table of contents.





	1. Table of Contents

**Day 1 / Dec 23 – Domestic** / Adventure

  * **Ship:** Revolver/Spectre
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Introspective Fic, Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, Fluff and Angst



**Day 2 / Dec 24 – Fairy Tales** / Horror Stories

  * **Ship:** Takeru/Aoi | background Akira/Ema
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Alternate Universe – Fairy Tales, Fluff



**Day 3 / Dec 25** – Christmas / Valentine’s Day and/or **White Day**

  * **Ship:** Yusaku/Aoi
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Fluff, Awkward Flirting



**Day 4 / Dec 26 - Birthday** / Dying

  * **Ship:** Yusaku/Jin
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Fluff, Takes Place Between Season 1 and Season 2



**Day 5 / Dec 27 – Muse** / Envy

  * **Ship:** Revolver/Spectre
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Alternate Universe – Monsters, Unethical Experimentation, Implied Power Imbalance, Slight Angst



**Bonus Day! Day 5 / Dec 27** – Muse / **Envy**

  * **Ship:** Spectre/Miyu
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Slight Angst, Bittersweet Fluff



**Day 6 / Dec 28 - Bad Pick-up Lines** and/or Puns / Playing Games

  * **Ship:** Aoi/Naoki
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Fluff, Humour



**Bonus Day! Day 6 / Dec 28 -** Bad Pick-up Lines and/or Puns / **Playing Games**

  * **Ship:** Kengo/Ryoken
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Gunplay, Sexual References



**Day 7 / Dec 29 -** YGO Series Crossover / **Other Fandom AU**

  * **Ship:** Aoi/Miyu | unrequited Spectre/Miyu
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Alternate Universe – Revolutionary Girl Utena



**Day 8 / Dec 30 - Royalty** ~~/~~ **Dreams**

  * **Ship:** Aoi/Miyu | implied Yusaku/Jin/Spectre/Takeru/Miyu/Windy’s Lost Child
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Alternate Universe – Science Fantasy, Loosely Inspired by Sailor Moon, Artistic Licence



**Bonus Day! Day 8 / Dec 30** \- Royalty / **Dreams**

  * **Ship:** Spectre/Aoi
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Fluff, Bed Sharing



**Day 9 - Dec 31 – Favourite Card** / Win or Lose

  * **Ship:** Revolver/Borreload Dragon
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Angst, Canon Compliant



**Day 10 / Jan 01 - Soulmate AU** / Hanahaki Disease

  * **Ship:** Takeru/Flame
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Angst with A Happy Ending



**Bonus Day! Day 10 / Jan 01 - Soulmate AU** / Hanahaki Disease

  * **Ship:** Ryoken/Yusaku/Spectre/Jin/Takeru/Miyu/Windy’s Origin
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Alternate Universe – Soulmates, Fluff With an Angsty Ending



**Day 11 / Jan 02** \- Sweets / **Music**

  * **Ship:** Earth/Aqua
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Fluff, Pre-Canon



**Bonus Day! Day 11 / Jan 02** \- **Sweets** / Music

  * **Ship:** Ryoken/Jin
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Fluff, Post-Canon



**Day 12 / Jan 03 –** Pets / **Sickfic**

  * **Ship:** Yusaku/Ai
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Post-Canon, Vore, Tentacles, Crack



**Day 13 / Jan 04** – Wedding / **First Date**

  * **Ship:** Akira/Ema/Shoichi
  * **Rating:** T
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Humour



**Bonus Chapter! Day 13** – Wedding / **First Date**

  * **Ship:** Takeru/Kiku
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Fluff, Long Distance Relationship



**Day 14 / Jan 05 – Time Travel** / Superheroes

  * **Ship:** Takeru/Yusaku
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Alternate Universe - InuYasha



**Bonus Day / Jan 06 - Free Day: Meet the Parents**

  * **Ship:** Revolver/Spectre
  * **Rating:** G
  * **Tags:** Canon Compliant, Slight Angst




	2. Day 1 - Domestic

   As a child, living with Ryoken and his carers, Spectre was treated like the stray dog that Ryoken wasn’t supposed to have brought home. For the most part, anyway. Spectre didn’t mind though. It was an improvement on how he had been treated at the orphanage, after all. Here, he was better fed and better clothed. Even if he was treated something akin to a pet. At least they acknowledged him.

   There had been times when he had been worried that, perhaps, his master would tire of him even though Spectre had and always will be enamoured with him. To be honest, the role of glorified puppy-dog appealed to Spectre for that reason. He didn’t have to be requited to be content. He could follow and follow and follow, even if he were kicked. He would still follow for it was his greatest joy and pleasure in his life.

   And yet, Ryoken never did requite that sort of mindset which saw Spectre as something beneath human. He always treated Spectre like his equal; his friend, even. It was very sweet. He truly was angelic in that regard. Spectre enjoyed being able to be Ryoken’s friend. His one and only friend. His father may not explicitly forbid it but with their circumstances, there was something of an unspoken ruling regardless.

   However, it was due to their circumstances that Spectre needed limits for things. He knew he wasn’t welcome. Not at first anyway. The adults didn’t understand why one of the children from the Lost Incident would return, let alone so willingly with dopey eyes which just always wanted his abuser’s son’s attention so madly.

   But, Spectre was allowed to remain in the household nonetheless. And for that, Spectre would be truly grateful. His childhood truly did improve from the moment the Incident began.

   Where the others of the Lost Incident may have felt virulent and turbulent peril had they returned to that building, Spectre did not. It came to feel like home. And thus, he was more or less integrated into the lives and house of the Ryoken and his carers, even if the notion that his father didn’t want it per se, but he was comatose, even if his ideas weren’t. It was that grudging abidance by his son’s friendship which had permitted Spectre into the household and had kept him there until he was of a decent age, to fend for himself.

   Spectre recalls his time as a child from those days onwards with very ardently cherished breath. He enjoyed dearly being a member of Ryoken’s household, even if it was as a role akin to pet or live-in playmate. He loved it. He loved the mornings he spent with Ryoken at breakfast and the afternoons where they would play in the shade of trees. Sometimes they would read and study together, other times they would duel without consequence or fear. They were truly halcyon days.

   Through this childhood, these pre-adolescent days, there were a few scattered nights that Spectre truly holds his breath for in reverence due to how dear they were to his twisted heart. They would do things they could no longer get away with as young men, not without implications and strings they perhaps not try to unravel. These were domestic things, childlike things.

   Sometimes, Ryoken and Revolver would share a bed. It wouldn’t happen frequently. Just whenever one had a nightmare which would have been inescapable without company. They were used to all sorts of nightmares but once in a while, their little child minds would concoct something – some sort of retelling of the Lost Incident – which they couldn’t cope with alone.

   Their hands would intertwine. They would share breath and blankets. So pure and innocent.

   Spectre missed those days. After all, change always came and as they grew older and things became more complicated as they came to understand the world better. Things such as sharing a bed in the bliss of boyhood changed. Soon, they did their laundry separately instead of haphazardly putting it all in one basket. Soon, they would weather the harder nights alone and their studies were conducted separately.

   Spectre doesn’t blame Ryoken for the changes. It is just what comes with time after all and, having some knowledge of the true depth of Spectre’s feelings and manifested, he could understand why Ryoken would want more space now they were older. But, still, it would be nice. To go back to those days from their boyhood where they could let their fingers intertwine under the covers. How Spectre wishes he could crawl back into bed with Ryoken as they were now but, that would be inappropriate.

   He was, no matter how he felt, a child of the Lost Incident first and foremost. His duelling was responsible for one of the Ignis that they had to destroy, after all. Their now adult duties would never permit the crossing of boundaries between professional and personal. Not underneath the, perhaps, more careful eye of Doctor Kogami. He felt that his assistants, his trusted knights, had let them get away with too much as children. There were peculiar bonds between them now.

   Bonds that Spectre would rather die than forego. After all, he was burgeoning with these feelings for his beloved Ryoken-sama. They were, whether anyone but him liked it or not, an integral part of his identity.

   Still, Spectre clings to the memories so dearly and fondly. And still, he wishes, that just one more time, he could spend a night with his darling master one more time. Hand in hand, heads sharing a pillow, in domestic bliss just like when they were children.


	3. Day 2 - Fairy Tales

   Once upon a time, there was a young king. To call him egotistical would be improper but he was self-absorbed. The King was a man named Akira and he was a man of peace and mind. He did not war monger but, his life was not without strife. Though, much of it was self-imposed.

   One way in which most his strife was self-impose can be best demonstrated by how, one day, he became intrigued by how much the women in his life loved him. Thus, he posed them a question.

   He had his wife and sister heralded to his throne room where he welcomed them with the guise of a game. His wife, the mischievous Queen Ema, and his sister, the near hermitic Princess Aoi, awaited them. Both were eager to bond. It felt like their darling King never paid any attention to either of them due to his tenuous work as king.

   Akira looked down upon them and then asked: “How much do you two love me?”

   Such a question elicited a look between Ema and Aoi which was incredulous to say the least, but they relented. They played along nonetheless. Ema sighed and smiled.

   “You are the apple of my eye, the love of my life.” she replied in due earnestness.

   Aoi shifted. “I love you as much as the salt on my food…” she murmured.

   Ema glanced at her sister-in-law and then unto her husband. She blinked. She smiled and was intrigued by such a statement.

   King Akira, however, was not as benevolent in reaction. In fact, far from it. He was enraged by the response his sister had given him. His wife had doused him in fair praise, but his sister seemed to have little response. His brow knitted together.

   “Ema, my love, for your reply, I want you to go find the royal seamstress immediately and have her make a new gown for you.” Akira said and then his sharp eyes fell over to Aoi. “However, Aoi, because of your response, I want you stripped of your privileges as princess for a whole year. In this year, I want you to live as a peasant. I have spoiled you too much if you feel it fit to bite the hand which feeds you. I want you to repent for your lack of love for me, your elder brother.”

   Aoi attempted to protest but, as it was said – so it was done.

   She was escorted out by one of the royal knights and taken to her chambers. She gathered what she could. She took a few of her finer dresses and some of her jewellery. Once she had made her selections of what possessions she would take with her in the big, wide world she had been spurned onto, she was then banished from the castle.

   She was taken to the edge of the capital and told to live as she pleased so long as it was under the guise of being a common woman and not a princess. Aoi obeyed. She traded in some of her clothes and jewels for money. However, there was one thing Aoi would never sell and that was her signet ring with a four-leaf clover design. That ring was far too precious to ever go without. With that money, she purchased more common clothes as she realised someone might be more willing to take her as a board if she looked like she could do the hard yards.

   So, for a few days, she flitted from building to building in search of work. Each day, the clothes she wore grew dirtier and dirtier despite her best efforts to keep clean. It was on the end of her second week as a supposed peasant girl that she found work. A cheery shepherd and his quiet son took her on as a watcher of their fields.

   There, Aoi grew accustomed to her new life as a shepherdess. She was awkward, and they were awkward with her but soon, they grew. She came to understand them as people. Their names were Shoichi and Yusaku; Yusaku had a job in the town as a baker and thus, was no longer interested in taking shifts in the field with his assumed father. They were good people though. They didn’t pry and gave her the space she needed. They didn’t even ask why such an improvised girl as her would be in possession of such a marvellous signet ring as hers. Thus, it was a quiet household that was often without gossip or event. But, it was nice. Aoi preferred it that way, to be honest.

   Time passed quicker than Aoi thought it would. Before she knew it, she had been working with Shoichi and Yusaku for about six months. Her days as a princess now seemed a life time away and yet, her days resuming as such seemed so close. After all, another six months and she would be permitted to re-joining her family at the castle.

   But, it was at this mid-point that Aoi found herself nostalgic for the fine silks and makeup that she used to wear. She sighed. But, as she fell deeper into these feelings, she came to a conclusion. Yusaku was at work with the bakers and Shoichi had taken some stock to market to sell. She would have a few hours to herself and thus, her mind wandered, and ideas bloomed.

   Rather than don the guise of the peasant girl, Aoi decided to bedeck herself in her decadent dresses. She chose the powdery blue one with white accents. She twirled around the house in it, content with herself. But, alas, she looked out the window and saw that the troublesome poddy lamb – Ai – had gotten loose again; likely in search of his favourite companion, Yusaku.

   Without enough time to get changed, Aoi resolved to simply fulfil her duties in a ballgown rather than anything practical. So, she charged out – high heels and all – into the field. She dragged Ai by the scruff of his neck before he could get too far down the road and tied him up again.

   Ai brayed at her, whining. Aoi stuck her tongue out back. Ai was full of personality. She then went inside and tried to fix Ai something to drink; some milk. She came back and fed him as is. Then, once she finished feeding Ai, she felt too exhausted to get changed again. So, she sighed and relented.

   Today, she would simply wear what she desired for her work. So, for a few hours, she tended the fields in her stunning, powder blue dress with angelic motifs. It was kind of fun. More fun than wearing her drab brown uniform.

   As Aoi tended the fields, she thought alone, she was completely unaware that someone had spotted her in her dress.

   The young and vivacious Prince Takeru had come to visit. He and his carriage and all his men passed by the field in which Aoi tended, completely unaware. He had come on royal duties as he was from a seaside kingdom faraway, nothing like the landlocked capital of Sol Vrains, Den City. He wanted to discuss treaties with King Akira, among other things such as see the sights.

   And the sights he saw! He never thought he would ever see such a beautiful shepherdess. He fell in love with the sight of her and all her sheep as they mowed around her and her gorgeous gown. Immediately, Prince Takeru was struck with the arrow of love.

   However, being of the temperament he was – which was to say outlandish and ridiculous – his love burned so hard that it robbed him of his energy. He had always been of a peculiar constitution; sometimes, he was frail and other times he was seemingly indestructible. No one could ever predict his health, and no one could have predicted how the beautiful shepherdess he had fallen in love with had impacted him.

   As he passed by and into the city, he grew sick with yearning and love for the girl he didn’t even know. He was ailed so harshly by this infatuation that his body grew weak and he failed to meet with Prince Akira at the time they had appointed for conversations of the princely and kingly duties.

   His royal doctor, and childhood friend, Kiku attempted to heal him but none of her remedies worked. Thus, Takeru took her hand and smiled.

   “Kiku, the only cure for my sickness is to eat a loaf of bread prepared by the beautiful shepherdess from the field.” he told her with a quivering voice.

   Kiku sighed and realised that if his illness was emotional, then there was nothing she could do with herb and spell. She wished desperately that she could chastise her Prince for being so ridiculous but as his friend, she decided not to lest he become wounded. So, she relented. Kiku organised a search party. She and Takeru’s men scoured all of Den City in search of the shepherdess who tended her sheep in such an impractical yet gorgeous outfit.

   They asked and asked but no one knew the girl they spoke of. But, with Takeru’s health growing dire, Kiku decided to resort to drastic measures. Instead, she returned to the farm that they had passed by – the one where they saw the girl.

   “I come in the name of Prince Takeru,” she told Shoichi and Yusaku, “and our prince is gravely ill with love. Does a woman live here?”

   “Yeah, we’ve got a girl boarding with us.” Shoichi replied.

   “Does she know how to bake?” Kiku asked.

   “Yeah.” Yusaku replied.

   “Excellent. Now, is by any chance, you would be interested in what might constitute as treason? I desire to con my Prince into think he’s eating the bread made by his fictitious love. I mean, what sort of shepherdess wears a ball gown whilst with her sheep?”

   “What?” Aoi piped up as she came down stairs to see what the fuss was. Her eyes widened.

   “Regardless, I think that if Prince Takeru thinks that he’s eating bread made by such a woman, he will be cured of his ridiculous infatuation.” Kiku finished.

   “Oh look, speak of the devil,” Shoichi said and he ushered Aoi closer, “here’s the girl you’re looking for. Our blue rose in this den of men.”

   “You flatter me, Shoichi.” Aoi replied awkwardly.

   “So, would you be willing? Just one loaf of bread.”

   “Very well then…” Aoi murmured.

   Kiku stayed a while. Aoi, in the meantime, baked the bread – with some input from Yusaku. He always found it strange that things as simple as baking bread sometimes seemed a touch beyond Aoi’s skill set. Regardless, come the eventide, Kiku was sent off with a warm loaf of bread.

   And Aoi realised something awful. As she washed her hands, she realised that her signet ring – the one her parents gave her before their untimely demise – had disappeared. She tore apart the house in search of it but quickly came to a grim conclusion: she had accidentally baked it into the loaf of bread.

   A conclusion that soon proved correct.

   Kiku arrived at the castle and was quickly whisked up to Prince Takeru’s guest room. She handed over the bread, still warm, and Prince Takeru serenely unwound the cloth that covered it. He smiled. He broke off a piece and began eating it. Already his flushed cheeks paled, and his clammy complexion improved. Kiku smiled.

   But then, Prince Takeru bit into the ring. He removed it from his mouth and his eyes widened. They glittered and Kiku’s heart dropped.

   “The beautiful shepherdess,” he began breathlessly, “she must requite me. Hence why this is in the bread she gave me. Did you swear you to secrecy?”

   Kiku, unable to respond, merely nodded.

   Prince Takeru put aside the bread and forced himself to his feet. He was as unsteady as a foal. He grabbed his coat, a burning crimson, and he grinned.

   “Take me to this girl at once, I want to be married to her!” he announced.

   Kiku was flabbergasted and there was nothing she could do. Her Prince Takeru bore onwards and was soon, by demand, taken to the cottage at the edge of town – to the inelegant surprise of the men who lived there.

   “I am Prince Takeru!” he said as he banged on the door. “And I wish to become the betrothed of the shepherdess who lives here!”

   Ai cooed from his yard, intrigued.

   Shoichi opened the door to Prince Takeru. “The girl who lives here doesn’t even know how to bake bread properly. You don’t want to marry her.”

   “Fiend, you must want her for yourself.” Prince Takeru spat.

   “I can assure you otherwise.” Shoichi countered.

   He hazarded a look over his shoulder, “Yusaku, where’s Aoi?”

   Yusaku shrugged.

   “I’m here.” Aoi said.

   And, again, she descended down the stairs of the two-tier cottage and all eyes widened. She wore a pastel blue dress with white, angel-themed decals.

   “So, I hear you found my ring.” Aoi said.

   Prince Takeru barged past Shoichi and Yusaku. It seemed there was little they could do to stop him. Though, Kiku apologised profusely in lieu of the prince.

   Aoi stepped off the final ledge. “It’s good to meet you, Prince Takeru. I’ve heard of you. I’m Princess Aoi of Sol Vrains.”

   “You’re WHO?” Shoichi yelled.

   “I am the hermit princess, Aoi of Sol Vrains: my brother, Akira, is the king.” Princess Aoi said.

   “It’s lovely to meet you, Princess Aoi.” Prince Takeru said.

   “By the gods…” Kiku gasped.

   “We had a princess living with us this whole goddamn time?” Shoichi snapped at Yusaku.

   “Apparently.” Yusaku shrugged back.

   “Now, Princess Aoi,” Prince Takeru said as he readied the four-leaf clover ring, “I would like to ask for your hand in marriage. As immediately as possible.”

   “I accept. On two conditions.” Princess Aoi replied.

   “Whatever you ask. No feat is too herculean.” Prince Takeru replied.

   “The first of which is that I want my brother to be in attendance and to have a seat of honour. The second of my conditions is that I shall be the one to prepare your meal our wedding.” Princess Aoi said.

   “…Huh?” Shoichi exclaimed; still too dazed by the whole situation to realise that two of royal blood had just gotten engaged under his roof.

   “Easy.” Prince Takeru beamed. “I look forward to your cooking, Aoi.”

   And thus, a wedding was held in Den City and what a grand wedding it was. Folks from all walks of life got together for it. From those held in esteem in the country Prince Takeru represented to the likes of Shoichi and Yusaku, as well as their poddy lamb Ai. With, of course, King Akira and Queen Ema in attendance.

   The ceremony was grandiose and the kiss that sealed it was warm. The dinner party that ensued in the castle simmered. Plates upon plates of food. All of it was beautiful and well made. Everyone, bar Prince Takeru, was soon given something to eat and to say grace before.

   As in accordance with her conditions, it was Princess Aoi who brought out the final plate. She held it closely. Compared to that of the professional chefs, it was meagre and even ugly looking but from afar, Prince Takeru eyed it with eagerness. Princess Aoi smiled. Her heart fluttered upon such a look.

   “Here you go, my husband.” she said. “Now, you are not allowed to change a single thing about it. You will eat it as I have prepared it.”

   “With pleasure, my wife.” Prince Takeru replied.

   King Akira, sitting adjacent to such a lovey-dovey scene harrumphed to the amusement of his wife.

   Princess Aoi took her seat beside her husband her brother.

   “Thank you for this meal.” Prince Takeru exclaimed.

   He then took arms against his food. He ate it with great vigour. Princess Aoi smiled but then, Prince Takeru placed his knife and fork down.

   “It needs… salt.” Prince Takeru said.

   “Like I said, you must eat it as I have prepared it. Even if it requires salt, like you believe.” Princess Aoi replied, very seriously.

   “But its really, really good – I didn’t mean any offence.” Prince Takeru hastily added.

   “I know, my love,” Prince Aoi glanced at her brother, “I know.”

   And thus, in that moment, King Akira had a moment of thunderstruck disbelief. When he had asked his sister – in the game – how much did she love him? He had misunderstood.


	4. Day 3 - White Day

  Aoi stared down the little, glossy box covered in out of season wrapping paper with a cellophane bow glued haphazardly onto this. She blinked and looked up. Yusaku stared back. He retracted his arm, and consequently the gift, and then thrust it out again. As though thinking if he tried again, he’d get a different reaction. Aoi couldn’t help but feel like she was being treated like a computer who had just gotten the turn it off and turn it back on treatment.

  She licked her lips. If he wasn’t going to say anything, she supposed that she had to.

  “Yusaku, what is this?” she asked and patted herself on the back for leaving out some more blunt lexical choices from her question.

  “A gift. Is it not… obvious?” he replied.

  Aoi heard Yusaku’s Duel Disc, or more accurately Ai, sigh with utter disdain for him.  _Me too, Ai_ , she thought to herself.

  “Okay, but why?” she asked.

  “It’s White Day.” Yusaku said, as though that would absolve all the confusion from the scenario in which he had presented Aoi.

  “But that’s a holiday… you know… for boyfriends to do something nice for their… Girlfriends. Or, you know, giving back obligatory chocolate.” Aoi said.

  “I know.” Yusaku said and he presented the gift yet again.

  “We’re not… I didn’t even…” Aoi lost her sentences in her mouth.

  “I know.” Yusaku stated.

  “You don’t think its kind of strange?” Aoi asked.

  Yusaku shrugged and Aoi remembered Yusaku was, well, Yusaku. He was strange. So, she sighed. She took the box.

  “Thank you.” Yusaku said.

  “Didn’t you have any other wrapping paper?” Aoi asked as she began to tear of the bow. “I mean, I don’t think “happy birthday” with pirates is exactly… White Day material.”

  “I was talked into doing it at the last minute. It’s all Kusanagi had.” Yusaku explained.

  Aoi mused on that. That meant this was likely wrapping paper left over from Yusaku’s birthday, but it was rather juvenile. She wondered if it had been a while since Yusaku had last gotten a gift for his birthday.

  “So Kusanagi-san talked you into?” she asked.

  “Yeah.” Yusaku replied.

  “Why?” Aoi asked.

  Yusaku shrugged.

  Aoi pried off the wrapping paper and handed it to Yusaku. Yusaku took it without thinking and he glanced around. He couldn’t see a bin anywhere. So, he held onto it.

  Aoi smiled softly when she saw there had been something written onto the box.

  “Ah yes, the only person I did give obligatory chocolate to…” she said. “Now it’s all coming together.”

  “What is?” Yusaku asked.

  “Dear Aoi, thank you for the chocolates, love your brother. PS Sorry I can’t be there in person today.” Aoi read the little dedication on the box. “Looks like you were just the messenger, Yusaku.”

  “Ah. That makes sense.” Yusaku nodded. “Kusanagi got off the phone with someone then randomly said I had to take this to school to give this to you yesterday.”

  “Thanks for the chocolate anyway, Yusaku. I’ll be sure to thank my brother later.” Aoi said.

  And then she faltered. She had meant to just leave it there, but she couldn’t help but find herself wanting to talk more and say more things. A rather bold idea flitted into her head. She came a touch closer and got onto her tiptoes. She pecked Yusaku’s cheek.

  “Maybe next year, I’ll give you chocolates.” she said.

  As she came back down onto the soles of her feet, she patted Yusaku’s arm then chuffed off. Yusaku watched as she left.

  “I don’t really like sweets.” he called out to her.

  Aoi laughed.

  “You’re a real Casanova, aren’t you, Playmaker?” Ai huffed sarcastically.

  “I am?” Yusaku replied.

  Ai sighed again.


	5. Day 4 - Birthday

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Jin, happy birthday!”

  The crowd around Jin sang and he blushed. It was more than a bit noisy and he wasn’t used to being the centre of attention but he kind of liked it anyway. The crowd consisted of his brother, two of his nurses, some of the other patients, and Yusaku. They were trying to give him space so as to not make him anxious but given the size of group – which was way bigger than usual – it was a touch difficult.

  Shoichi cut through and he held the tray with the cake on it. Jin smiled. He could tell it was his favourite just from looking at it. That is, an easy bake, no brand vanilla cake with the thinnest splurge of icing on top. He didn’t like anything that was too sweet or too flavourful. Food like that generally tended to give him sensory issues.

  “C’mon champ, blow out your candles and make a wish.” Shoichi told him.

  Jin glanced around and his heart beat. He rubbed his hands over his blanket then took a deep breath. As he took his breath, he thought about his wish. It was pretty silly, but he did like the idea of birthday wishes but he wasn’t sure if he had one. So, he looked up and there was a moment when his eyes locked with Yusaku. He smiled curtly, to awkwardly acknowledge him, and then Yusaku glanced away. Jin understood though. After all, he didn’t like eye contact either and being the focal point of someone’s attention was daunting. So, he ended up looking down again.

  Back towards his vanilla cake with white icing and sprinkles. Plonked in the middle was two candles: a one and a six, to represent his age. Finally, Jin let go his breath and he attempted to blow out the candles. Though there were only two of them and he had taken a big breath, Jin still struggled to blow them both at once. But he did manage. And he felt oddly accomplished for it.

  “Hell’s yeah.” Shoichi said. “Now let’s cut this baby up.”

  Shoichi then took the cake and placed it on the table. He cut it up and placed slices of different sizes on serviettes. He handed a thin slice to Jin and a medium sized slice to Yusaku. He saved a fat slice for himself and the nurses and patients were given slices according to what Shoichi estimated was their dietary needs. Though, he was pretty good at guessing that sort of thing; especially since he was already quite acquainted with them.

  The rest of the party was quite blasé. But that was what Jin wanted. He didn’t want loud music or conversation. He just wanted to be around the people that he liked best. Still, it was fun and exciting. It had been a while since Jin had eaten cake which was good. Hospital food was… hit and miss so he could definitely enjoy his brother’s baking. Especially since that was a rarity in itself.

  The duration of the party was probably half an hour, maybe forty-five minutes, and soon the crowd dispersed, and Jin returned to his room. Though, Shoichi hung around for a bit. Yusaku didn’t though. He was probably too awkward, and Jin didn’t blame him. He would feel awkward too if the roles had been reversed.

  The following days were quite blasé as well, Jin found. It was all very routine, but he didn’t mind. It gave him time to read his news books that Shoichi had gotten him. That’s why he was surprised when a nurse alerted him with his pager that he had a guest and Jin, curious, permitted it.

  Soon, his guest arrived and lingered in the doorjamb. “Hey.” Yusaku mumbled.

  “Hi.” Jin murmured back, and he invited Yusaku inside.

  Yusaku sat down next to Jin. He stared at the floor. Jin noticed that Yusaku didn’t have his Duel Disc with him today. Now that he thought about it, Jin became reasonably certain that Yusaku hadn’t had his Duel Disc at his party either. So, Jin chose not to bring it up. Instead, he asked something else.

  “Did my brother ask you to visit?” he asked, quietly.

  “No.” Yusaku replied.

  “Oh.” Jin murmured, surprised. “That’s not like you.”

  “I wanted to hang out.” Yusaku shrugged. “We didn’t get a chance to on your birthday.”

  Jin nodded. “That’s true. It was a bit… busy. So, um, what did you want to talk about?”

  “I was actually kind of certain that you wouldn’t be in the mood for guests so I didn’t prepare anything but, um, school was good.” Yusaku replied. “And there’s still no word on if the Knights of Hanoi are back. It’s pretty quiet.”

  “Ah. No news is good news then?” Jin presumed.

  “Yeah.” Yusaku mumbled. “But, um… how’s your book?”

  “It’s nice. It’s hard to find books which don’t trigger me though and but this one’s nice. I feel kind of silly though. I’m way out of the target demographic but it’s a cute novel about a witch’s cat who befriends a normal person’s cat, but the normal person’s cat turns out to be a magic cat too.” Jin replied.

  “That does sound nice.” Yusaku agreed. “But you shouldn’t feel bad for not being the target demographic. I’m sure the author’s glad it appeals to you anyway. Oh, how’s your schooling going?”

  Jin shrugged. “My handwriting’s improving but anything more than two hours of study drains me.”

  “Yeah, me too…” Yusaku agreed. “One of my classmates has suggested I get a pillow for when I can’t stay awake any longer. I’m thinking I should.”

  Jin laughed. “When you say classmate, do you mean a friend?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.” Yusaku replied. “He’s very enthusiastic about Playmaker. It makes me feel weird.”

  “Oh.” Jin replied.

  “But it’s nice to meet passionate people…” Yusaku mumbled.

  “Yeah.” Jin’s voice cracked.

  “So, um, what else have you been up to?” Yusaku asked.

  “Not much.” Jin confessed.

  They fell quiet but Yusaku seemed determined to keep the conversation alive so he tried to choose another topic. He kept coming back to the party.

  “I liked the cake Kusanagi-san made for you.” Yusaku said.

  “Me too. It’s my favourite.” Jin replied.

  “It’s nice. And I’m sorry that I didn’t get you a present. Money’s tight.”

  “I understand.”

  “So, what did you wish for?”

  Jin blinked. He was taken aback by that question. “Yusaku, it’s unlucky to tell people what you wish for. It stops the wish for working.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know that.” Yusaku replied.

  “That’s okay,” Jin said, his voice was airy, “I’m happy to tell you anyway.”

  “Really?” Yusaku’s apple green eyes widened.

  “Mhm.” Jin murmured. “I wished to kiss you.”

  “What?” Yusaku’s voice cracked with his exclamation.

  “I have… something of a crush on you, Yusaku.” Jin admitted. His heart pounded. “I enjoy spending time with you and would enjoy doing it more. I guess… that feeling is romantic.”

  “I like spending time with you, as well Jin…” Yusaku replied.

  Jin’s heart continued to pound but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t make him feel nervous or nauseous but rather sweetly air-headed. He didn’t get it, but he liked it.

  “And, um, I’m happy to make your birthday wish come true. It’s just a kiss.” Yusaku continued.

  “Thank you, Yusaku.” Jin said.

  Yusaku inched closer. He put his hand on the railing, it was cold and smooth, and leaned over. Jin met his lips and the ensuing kiss was awkward. It was more than apparent that neither of them knew what they were doing outside of smush their lips together. Thus, it was chaste and awkward, but it made them both blush and feel strangely good.

  Jin was the one to break off the kiss. He demurely glanced at Yusaku and his heart wouldn’t stop erratically beating.

  “Thank you, Yusaku.”

  “I just hope you had a good birthday, is all…” Yusaku mumbled back, red as a rose.

  “I did.” Jin replied.

   Jin smiled a rare smile that was sweet and genuine; it lit up his face and Yusaku felt flattered to see such an expression on Jin’s face given that he was usually so miserable-looking.


	6. Day 5a - Muse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shape of Water AU? The Shape of Water AU.  
> Except with trees...

  Ryoken held his breath and his right hand enclosed on itself into a fist. His eyes watered. He did not feel fit to behold such a sight as it unfolded as it did and yet, he was. Never before had been witness to such beauty and he felt that it was wrong for him to.

  He watched as the cell – the cage – transformed into a garden. The cement of the floor sprouted grass. Moss grew on the walls. Trees slowly erected and a floral scent soon permeated not just the cell but the whole of the room. Ryoken couldn’t believe his eyes.

  And at the epicentre was the creature – the Asset – and it slowly came forward. Ryoken’s heart pounded. He placed his hands on the bars. They were cold. It was wrong.

  The Asset came into clearer view and Ryoken was taken aback by how human it looked. A long nose and a long body; proportions which were slightly uncanny. Huge eyes and ears that poked past its hair. Its complexion was greenish. It was human-like and yet so alien. They called it a muse of the forest; an old, forgotten god and now, it was here. Brought to captivity by the humans who sought to claim its powers for evil.

  The aforementioned humans, being the likes of people such as Ryoken’s father and his associates. Even Ryoken played a part in the capturing of the Asset. He might not have tied the physical bonds, but he had aided in other ways. And now?

  He wallowed in guilt over it.

  The Asset’s eyes sparkled as it came closer still to Ryoken. It slipped its hand through the bar. It was so thin – so painfully thin. He stroked Ryoken’s face and tears dribbled down his cheek. The Asset’s hand felt stalky; like that of plant’s stem, not so much like skin or flesh.  It ran its fingers along Ryoken’s eyes and removed the tears.

  Ryoken wondered if it knew why he was crying. It tilted its head slightly. It blinked owlishly then retracted its hand. It licked his tears; unperturbed by the salt. Its expression remained tranquil yet puzzled. Ryoken’s heart skipped another beat.

  Under the thrall of the flowery scents, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was an aphrodisiac in the air. Ryoken had never been bothered with the ethics of his father’s experiments before but this felt wrong. Supremely wrong. A being such as the Asset belonged where it had been found: in the deepest, most arcadian depths of the virginal forest in which it hailed. As prettied as its cage was slowly becoming, it did not deserve captivity.

  But all he could truly articulate was the aroma in the air. It was doing something to him mentally, as combined with the image of the Asset behind bars despite the luxe garden unfurling around it due to its abilities. Ryoken steeled himself, however.

  He didn’t know what this emotion was. He wanted to call it love but no, it was akin to something else, something he didn’t truly know. All Ryoken knew was how it filled him and warmed him as he bathed himself in the smell of the room and the visage of the Asset.

  Ryoken gazed into its eyes: they were a pale teal colour, a beautiful blue that evoked neither the sea or nor sky but something else entirely. The more he stared, the more he came to the resolution that he had to do something. He had to save this lost thing from the hell that he had had a hand in making. He licked his lips.

  “I’ll free you, I promise.” Ryoken said.

  His hand remained on the bar; fingers loosely curled around. The Asset dipped its head slightly. It kissed Ryoken’s fingers; nectar, or sap, dripped from its mouth as it kissed him. Even with that sickeningly sweet gesture upon his declaration, Ryoken was still not certain if the Asset understood him but, Ryoken was willing to try anything to get it to come to understand the gravity of the situation; even if it could become comfortable using terraforming magic.


	7. Day 5b - Envy

  Miyu glanced at Spectre and she swayed as she sat beside him on the planter box. She knocked her knees against his and he disliked that immensely but softened. He wasn’t the playful type of person, but she was, and it was half-sweet, so he reminded himself that he should at least make the attempt of becoming friendly with her.

  “Okay,” she said, “tell me a fun fact about yourself. Something surprising.”

  Spectre huffed. “I don’t know… I collect china. I enjoy how teapots look.”

  “Boooring.” Miyu heckled. “Tell me something fun.”

  “I think crockery is very fun, thank you. Just because you don’t enjoy the finer things in life.” Spectre said.

  “Tell me something about when you were little; from before the Incident.” Miyu said.

  “Alright, well…” Spectre paused, and he couldn’t immediately think of anything that Miyu wouldn’t already know. He relented. There was one thing. “I used to be a very errant child. A bit wild.”

  “Oh, do tell?” Miyu prompted him with a flirtatious curl in her voice.

  “I liked to go camping. I took a lot of… unsupervised trips into the woods as a child. One thing I liked to do was see how long I would go missing. Turns out, I could go missing for as long as six months, and even then, they still didn’t care that I had disappeared… But one thing I liked to do in on my little, impromptu camping trips, was that I liked to sleep in the trees.”

  “Like in a hammock?” Miyu asked, interrupting.

  “No, just with a blanket and on a sturdy bough. Even now, I’m still confident in my ability to scale all sorts of trees. A useful skill; not many people think to look above their eye-line.” Spectre added, mirthful.

  “That’s really cool!” exclaimed Miyu and her eyes went wide. “Can you show me?”

  “Absolutely not; that would be gauche.” Spectre retorted.

  Miyu sighed and hummed. “After the Incident, my mother wouldn’t let me out of her sight. She wouldn’t let me do anything fun. I always wanted to climb a tree as a kid but could never figure out how. I’m kind of jealous, you know? You had the sort of… free-spirited childhood I always dreamed of.”

  “The feeling is mutual.” Spectre reluctantly confessed.

  His hand slipped to hers and their fingers interlocked without thinking. Their gazes were distant; into the past.

  “I always dreamed of having an overprotective mother. Someone to scold me… care for me.” Spectre said.

  “You can take mine any day of the week.” Miyu said; perhaps intentionally callous, perhaps not.

  Spectre smiled wryly. He didn’t say what he was thinking out loud but Miyu had a feeling she knew just by his silence. It was very telling. The world was very unfair, they both thought but, at least they had each other to trade such inequitable musings born of envy with.


	8. Day 6a - Bad Pick-Up Lines

  “So, uh, you come here often…?” Naoki asked as he awkwardly leaned his arm over Aoi’s desk.

  She sighed. “Yes Naoki, I come here often. This is high school. We are classmates.”

  “I know that but, uh… I swear I got better digs than this. Um, are you from Tennessee ‘cause you’re the only ten I see.” Naoki said.

  Aoi rolled her eyes. “Naoki, I am Japanese. So are you. Because this is Japan. I think if you ever manage to successfully use that pick-up line, I will personally give you a million dollars because the odds are very slim.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.” Naoki said. “Okay, okay, I’ve got one.”

  “Oh boy.” Aoi murmured.

  “Did it hurt?” Naoki asked.

  “Did what hurt, Naoki?” Aoi asked.

  “When you fell from heaven, did it hurt? Because baby, you are my angel!” Naoki said, and his voice twisted and became sing-song.

  Aoi was vaguely certain the latter was a meme on top of being a godawful pick-up line. However, due to her secret identity as Blue Angel, she was amused. She sighed and smiled good-naturedly.

  “Okay, I did like that.” Aoi said and she leaned in. She pecked Naoki’s cheek. Then, leaned away again and grabbed her back. She slung it over her shoulder and turned away. “You’re cute Naoki, I’ll give you that.”

  She then pardoned herself and Naoki scrambled through the tables. “Hey! Aoi! When you say I’m cute do you mean that in a cute like a puppy dog way or a cute as in I could tap that kind of way?”

  Aoi laughed. “You’re cute.”


	9. Day 6b - Playing Games

  Revolver stared down the nozzle of Blood Shepherd’s laser. It had undoubtedly been hacked into the game; it suited his aesthetic well and Revolver was certain that if it fired, it fired for real, that a snarky little green light would be able to tear him to pieces, burning both his Avatar and his body.

  Nonetheless, Revolver stared down such a real and valid threat with a cocky grin. His hands were held high in mock surrender as he waited for Blood Shepherd’s demands of him. He already had his own concocted and couldn’t wait to inflict them upon Blood Shepherd. Regardless of whether or not Blood Shepherd wanted such things.

  “I want copies of your cards,” Blood Shepherd told him in a stone-cold tone of voice, “the ones you were able to use against the Wind Ignis and trump him. I’m going to get my revenge on that fucker Lightning and to do it, I need those old ass cards which aren’t in the system anymore.”

  “Sounds like a fine plan,” Revolver drawled, “I thought your initial match against the Light Ignis was magnificent, personally. But yes, a shame about how it ended.”

  Blood Shepherd, forever emotionless behind that mask so tight, did not reply. Those memories – the memories of being destroyed – were still fresh. He could feel the prickle of light beneath his skin. He could feel his blood crackle and shatter, even though these were just memories incited by mere suggestion of it. How pathetic.

  “Are you willing to meet my demands or not, Revolver?” Blood Shepherd finally spoke; his voice so cutting like a dagger.

  Revolver smirked. “Of course, but only if I can put my own little twist on it. You know I don’t like to bow to others.”

  “Make your statements.”

  “Let’s play a game.” Revolver suggested, all too eager with a devious edge to himself. “Let’s play a little game of… Russian Roulette, it’s a favourite of mine but all too often, I don’t get the thrill I’m looking for. I have to satisfy myself with safer alternatives. But I’m sure you would let me play the game I yearn for.”

  There something akin to lust in Revolver’s voice. Blood Shepherd honestly detested it, but he was intrigued by the proposition anyway. He and Revolver were of similar strains. They were uncomfortably bonded in this world which was so trusting of artificial intelligence. Not to mention, they were both roused by danger.

  “Alright.” Blood Shepherd agreed. “If I win, I get the cards. What do you want if you win?”

  “Your body.” Revolver said with a flippant hand gesture and a glint in his grey eyes.

  Blood Shepherd stiffened. Again, hard to read by his face, the rest of his body language had to suffice to communicate wordlessly but Revolver was quite certain that the reaction was repulsion. That amused him.

  “Too forward?” Revolver asked.

  “Perhaps.” Blood Shepherd said, his voice dropping a few octaves, but Revolver wasn’t intimidated.

  “Alright, just a kiss then.” Revolver said. “Oh, and to pick our winner, the winner should be the one to get shot.”

  “You’re a goddamn masochist.” snarled Blood Shepherd.

  Revolver flashed him yet another shit-eating grin. “A  _sado_ masochist actually. So, do you want to play or not? Otherwise, you’ve squandered my time and I’m logging out. I have better things to do than banter with someone not willing to put out.”

  “Very well then. I accept your conditions, you strange bastard.” Blood Shepherd huffed.

  “Fantastic, well, you can go first then.” Revolver said.

  Blood Shepherd drew in closer and his gun changed slightly. There were now three slots in the barrel now, rather than five. He spun it and Revolver counted the clunky clicks. He relished the noises. He hadn’t a doubt in his mind that Blood Shepherd intended to cheat in this little match, but Revolver didn’t mind. It was a win-win for him given his affinity for pain and pleasure and how blurred such things were.

  Then, Blood Shepherd brandished his little pistol with alien confidence. There was no way of confirming his true feelings. He remained of stern shoulders and kept his head held high. If he was afraid, there was no way for Revolver to know. Blood Shepherd kept it all hidden and Revolver found that… alluring.

  Revolver watched, with sadistic eagerness as Blood Shepherd put his weapon to his head. His hand was steady, and his finger slowly inched around the trigger. Revolver felt his innards curl into each other and knot as cruel glee filled him. Finally, Blood Shepherd pulled the trigger.

  He held his breath. He did not wince or flinch. He was ready and willing to take the punishment. But it did not come. Neither did a stringent breath of relief. Blood Shepherd then handed over the pistol.

  “How unlucky for you…” Revolver mused.

  Blood Shepherd had nothing to say to such a thing. Not when it was voiced in such a tone of voice; such a vulgar coo. So, Blood Shepherd remained eternally stoic with his fists by his side and his gaze, piercing and judgemental, unto Revolver who was slightly occupied.

  Revolver assessed the weapon. It wasn’t as weighty as he thought it would be. He felt as though a sudden surge of wind would be able to knock it off course, but it had the virtue of being loaded with lasers rather than bullets and light was not so easily avoided unless refracted.

  Revolver swallowed. It was not a nervous act. No, not at all. In fact, it was significant to his great amusement to it all. He wondered – no, he hoped – that his luck would succeed where Blood Shepherd’s had failed. He licked his lips. And where Blood Shepherd had trod carefully, Revolver was far too reckless.

  He put the pistol’s nose to his forehead and he grinned. Without fumble, Revolver pulled the trigger and in the corner of his eyes, he could see it. He could see the grandiose flash of emerald light and Blood Shepherd’s heart skipped a beat. Revolver’s grin grew wider and wider. His stomach dropped.

  The light pierced Revolver’s head and Blood Shepherd’s stomach lurched. His eyes shied away and then he heard it. Revolver’s laughter. He was laughing and so, Blood Shepherd’s gaze returned to him. He was untouched by the laser’s shot.

  “You didn’t think I wasn’t prepared for such a thing, were you?” Revolver asked. “I’m already a step ahead of you, Kengo. I’m untouchable, at least in the Link VRAINS anyway.”

  “You rat. You preach one thing but live another.” Blood Shepherd snarled.

  “I’m horny,” Revolver informed him as he handed back the pistol, “not suicidal.”

  Blood Shepherd likely could have continued snapping at him, but he was afraid that such a thing might be construed as concern in the mind of the Hanoi Leader. So, his tongue stayed put despite the lashing he very much wanted to deliver unto Revolver. He then returned his little gun to his inventory where it was safe from possible purges, at least for now.

  “So, Blood Shepherd, may I claim my prize? I won the game after all.” Revolver asked, and he tapped his bottom lip.

  “Do as you please.” Blood Shepherd huffed.

  “With pleasure.” Revolver said.

  He was the one to close the gap between them. The distance had always been strangely amicable up until now but as Revolver went onto his tip toes, and placed his hands onto Blood Shepherd’s firm chest, the distance became heinous. And so, Revolver claimed his prize and Blood Shepherd was indifferent to it as Revolver sweetly, amorously with closed eyes and a sigh on his lips, kissed him.

  The kiss which ensued was drawn out. Or maybe it just felt that way because Blood Shepherd was not the most willing partner in such an affair. As part of a game, or otherwise. But Revolver enjoyed himself. And that was the main thing – for him at least, whilst Blood Shepherd counted the milliseconds until Revolver broke off the kiss. His lips tingled, and he smiled impishly as he returned to the ball of his heel.

  “Enjoy yourself?” Blood Shepherd asked.

  “Perhaps.” Revolver said but his expression betrayed himself.

  For that reason, Revolver almost missed his prior Avatar. He wanted to be just as enigmatic as Blood Shepherd, even if he had found himself changing within his headspace and had wanted to reflect that in the post of the destruction that the Tower of Hanoi had spurred.

  “I shall now take my leave.” Revolver said and the smile, the tingles, upon his lips began to fade.

  “Very well then. I can’t say its been a pleasure.” Blood Shepherd said.

  With that, Revolver pardoned himself. His Avatar shattered into a haze of blue-white data before turning yellow. His log-out data erased completely in the system and before Blood Shepherd’s view.

  Blood Shepherd turned away from where Revolver had once stood. He began to cycle through his plans. He could attempt to hack the SOL Tech Data Bank since summoning Revolver for a favour had fallen through. But the Data Bank option was strenuous. Sol Tech no longer permitted him to root around in it and was now constantly updating. Blood Shepherd resolved to attempt such a thing again; perhaps he could try to recruit Playmaker’s Ally – his so-called shield – to help him.

  But, as Blood Shepherd walked away with his thoughts and adjusting his Duel Disc, he discovered something in his inventory. He found those bastard cards he wanted in his deck. He cursed himself for not realising that Revolver had likely given him them during the kiss.


	10. Day 7 - Other Fandom AU

  The wind blew in a strong gale and scattered rose petals. Drums beat hard and so did Aoi’s heart as he finally completed the ascension that it took to arrive at the promised place. She had the writ of challenge in one hand, crumpled, and in the other, was the ring that she had sworn her pride as a prince on. She held her head high and with a fearsome scowl on her face.

  She heard the click of high heels and he approached, hands spread out and with a gruesome expression upon his face.

  “I’m glad you could join us, Miss Zaizen. The Student Council welcomes you but unfortunately, it is only I who this matter concerns.”

  Spectre, the youth who had approached her, was a greasy young man in the year above her. It had been his actions which had spurred Aoi to defy the Student Council. After all, Aoi could not let such a fiend get away with abusing that girl. He had slapped her and called it a marital issue. Aoi wasn’t sure what any of that meant but he wouldn’t get away with such a thing – especially since it seemed sanctioned at the hands of Student Council President Kogami.

  “Whatever, let’s get this over with.” Aoi said. “What is it that you want me to do?”

  “Is it not obvious?” Spectre asked, and he toyed with the curl of silver hair by his face.

  Aoi’s eyes widened. He had done that purposefully, she realised because it had brought something rather dire to her attention.

  “Where did you get that ring?” she asked.

  It was the same as the one that she bore. It was white and bore a blue rose upon the enamel.

  “Why, I could ask the same thing of you, Miss Zaizen but no matter. I will confiscate such a thing one you lose the right to it.” Spectre continued.

  “What do you mean?” Aoi asked.

  Spectre seemed genuinely surprised by that but by the same token, his genuine expressions could be just as theatrical as his fake ones so Aoi did not trust it. She was merely taken aback by the sparkle of curiosity in his eyes as he tried to wonder about her.

  “It’s the Seal of the Rose Bride, of course.” Spectre said. “Those who the hold rings, are eligible to compete for the Bride’s hand in marriage. At the moment, I am the one who is engaged to her. And hence, I can treat her as I see fit.”

  His voice turned into a snarl then he snapped his fingers.

  The girl strode forward. Seeming from thin air and a cascade of rose petals followed in her wake. She was dressed in a watery blue dress with tulle and lace and it was decadent. It was beautiful. She seemed demure but in a downtrodden way as she came closer: her heels, glass like Cinderella’s, clicked.

  Spectre then forcefully grabbed her face and inspected her. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he asked.

  “Stop that!” Aoi yelled.

  “Why? She feels no pain. She has no personality and no will of her own. In fact, do you like how I treat you?” Spectre said.

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Miyu.” He then turned to Aoi. “See?”

  Aoi’s stomach knotted. “You disgust me.”

  “Good.” Spectre sneered. “Now fight for her.”

  “I shall. It’s my duty as a prince.” Aoi said.

  Spectre snickered, and he let go of Miyu. “Provide Miss Zaizen with a sword.”

  “A sword?!” exclaimed Aoi.

  “Yes. The duel for the Rose Bride is traditionally fought with a sword, after all.” Miyu explained.

  She then handed Aoi a wooden sword which had materialised before her very eyes. She then planted a blue rose upon Aoi’s breast. She smiled.

  “Good luck, Miss Zaizen.” Miyu said.

  Miyu then returned to Spectre’s side. She placed an orange-coloured rose on his breast. Watching the scene incited a rage in Aoi. It was the mockery of something romantic.

  “My sword, please, Miyu?” Spectre asked.

  “Of course, my liege.” Miyu replied.

  Miyu held out her hands and her eyes closed. The wind blew, and a swirl of orange petals followed in its deceptive wake, and from thin air, a sword manifested. It landed gently in Miyu’s hands and she held the blade as though it were anything but a weapon. She gracefully handed it over to Spectre who brandished it with violent relish.

  There was a glint of bloodlust in his eyes as a glint of sunlight bounced off the sharp edge of the sword. It was long and curved, like a scimitar yet elegant. His fingers coiled daintily around its hilt and he pointed it unto Aoi’s direction and a vicious grin swiftly split across his thin lips.

  “Shall we?” he asked.

  Aoi licked her lips. “I can’t. I don’t have a sword. I don’t have the experience.”

  “Unfortunate.” Spectre snickered.

  He took a step forward and Aoi took a step backwards: it was almost like a dance. Her heart began to hammer as Spectre slowly raised his weapon. She glanced, panickily, towards Miyu who blithely watched. Spectre surged forward. Aoi narrowly missed his strike but there was something slovenly in it and there was a vicious, blood-lusting look in his eyes.

  He missed on purpose, Aoi realised and she took a breath.

  “Don’t I get a weapon?” Aoi asked, terrified.

  “Miss Zaizen?” Miyu piped up. “You already have one.”

  Miyu’s fingers twinkled and Aoi realised that at her feet, she had a wooden sword right next to her. She ducked down, and Spectre swung at her again. Missing, of course and she scrabbled at the wooden sword. It felt empty in her hands as she slowly raised herself.

  Spectre brew back briefly. He toyed with the curved edge of his weapon. The look in his eyes was sustained and Aoi was revolted from the deepest recesses of her soul. She truly felt Spectre to be disgusting as he seemed to relish terrifying her and pitting her against him in this situation.

  “All is fair now, yes?” he mused.

  And with that as a warning, he surged forward once more but Aoi raised her convictions – and her sword, as useless-seeming and wooden as it was. The metal of edge dug and ate at the wood but Aoi pressed onwards. She and Spectre glared across the vertices of their chosen weapons.

  “You have done well,” he drawled, “to challenge me.”

  “I’ll defend Miyu with my life if I have to, anything to keep your slimy hands off her.” Aoi snapped back.

  Spectre laughed. “You are a true mockery of the title you yearn.”

  He pulled back and in quick succession, then tried to rush Aoi. She defended herself but at the cost of her blade. But better her wooden sword than her head. The true, steel blade belonging to Spectre destroyed that which Aoi wielded. It felt to the ground in chunks that Spectre kicked away; no doubt aiming for Aoi’s shins, but she deftly moved back.

  Aoi breathed in and out. She kept stepping back. Spectre pursued her: slowly and with his shoulders back. She glanced at Miyu. There was a pleading look in her eyes. They were so glassy and pathetic despite being of such a well-wrought colour of blue.

  Aoi was certain that Miyu, unable to defy Spectre, was using only her eyes to convey her suffering. A burden that Aoi was more than willing to take upon as it was her duty as a prince. She was told, as a child, by her darling Prince that she ought to have nobility and strength in all that she did; even in sorrow. And so, Aoi took conviction in that.

  Her weapon was in shambles and she was facing a real threat but with the blue rose upon her breast and her princess’ suffering, she was defiant in such danger. She took a breath and she steadied what remained of her wooden, practice sword.

  Spectre spat, and he readied his own blade. This was it. This was the final moment of their clash and so, both duellists charged at one another. Spectre’s sword glinted in the streaming sunlight, basking in the power of illusions and mirages, and Aoi’s wooden sword, reduced to a stump, merely had the grip upon it tighten.

  They charged at one another. Passing by with thunderous spirit. The battle lasted only a second because that’s all either of them needed to either win or succeed. It all based on how the petals scattered.

  Spectre sheathed his sword and took a breath. He exuded confidence. Aoi remained, in battle, posed and waiting. Her fingers aching from how tightly she held onto the remains of her wooden sword. She let go of a deep breath and turned her head.

  She watched the scatter of orange petals on the wind.

  Miyu smiled and Spectre’s head fell. The rose upon his breast had been reduced to nothing but its stem. He fumbled with his words. He fumbled with his sword; yet it did not clang on the ground. It dissipated and turned to sunlit nothingness. He turned around and Miyu walked off. He followed at her, his hands slightly out of reach of her as he was numbed with disbelief.

  Miyu clung to Aoi’s side and she brandished her wood sword protectively. She held onto Miyu and Miyu giggled. A devilish note to her voice – a note that Aoi did not hear and a note that echoed monstrously in Spectre’s head as he fell to the ground.

  “Do not touch her.” Aoi warned and her weapon transformed.

  From the stump of her wooden sword, metal bloomed, and she now held the very sword that Spectre had once possessed. He stared down the edge of it: sharp and keen. He saw his reflection, but he did not recognise it when it was wielded by Aoi.

  “I am the Rose Bride and I am engaged to Aoi now. Thank you for having me in your care, Spectre. I look forward to seeing you in our future classes together as friends.” Miyu said pointedly.

  “Begone from our sight Spectre.” she commanded.

  Spectre got up and he was like a kicked dog. Scrambling and sullen and scared and he made himself scarce. Seemingly disappearing once he reached the edge of the arena.

  Aoi breathed deeply. She inhaled the strong scents of roses and something else. It was aromatic, hinting at exotic spices. She swallowed. She hoped that these duels were the correct way for her to become a prince. After all, all princes had a princess to protect. But there was something about the Rose Bride duels…. Something off but for now, she was content.

  She had Miyu and Miyu was safe in this rose-scented embrace. They both were.


	11. Day 8a - Royalty & Dreams

  Once upon a time, in a beautiful and faraway past, there was an Empire of the Moon: glorious, serene, and platinum-plated. It was an idyllic, utopian Empire, something enjoyed by all, no matter the class. There was no lowest of the low nor was there a highest of the high, but there was variation of class nonetheless, it was simply not indicated by outrageous fortune or pitiful poverty.

  The Empire of the Moon enjoyed six regions, each bestowed with its own clan. Each region had a different purpose; be it to educate, such as with the Light Moon Clan, or to pursue agriculture, such as the Earth Moon Clan. Though all regions possessed such capabilities, others were perhaps more specialised. After all, the composition of the Moon itself was harsh but, the peoples had come together to create their truly special and ideal world, nonetheless.

  Each sector of the Moon possessed a Palace. Each Palace was a beautiful construction which reflected the elemental values of its place. They were all aloof buildings, literally detached from their sectors. Hovering, floating, and watching in guarded peace.

  The Empire of the Moon was ruled by Six Attribute Clans. The Clans held power intermitted and it was always such a joyous occasion, for the people of the Empire, to attend the ceremonies and coronations as the power was distributed once every six years. The heirs of the Clans were well beloved.

  Of the current heirs, there were five princes and one princess. Together, they were bound by a sacred bond; one guarded by a fealty. All would protect one, one would protect all.

  In the Cycle of the Elements, as the fluidly changing power dynamics were called, the first Heir was the Dark Moon Prince. He was reliable and calculated, but often times moody. The second position in the Cycle, was the Light Moon Prince. He was kind, sweet boy but was of frail health. Following on, was the Earth Moon Prince who was eccentric, yet unyielding loyal but there was something lurking beneath the surface of he, something sinister and callous. The fourth position was held by the Fire Moon Prince was every bit of zest as such a title would suggest. He was brash and courageous, but his impulsivity was, oftentimes, detrimental. The fifth position was held by the Water Moon Princess. She had a carefree smile and a tender heart but, she was cowardly and self-saving – though, she did try to strive to be otherwise. The final piece in the clockwork Cycle was the Wind Moon Prince. The fifth and final prince was cheerful and smiley but flawed in that he was [x].

  Each heir was also aided by a vassal. Each vassal was strangely suited to the needs and complexities of their masters; balancing them out, as peculiar seeming as it was. Their vassals were strange creatures made of something silky and synthetic, with all the powers of the universe stored within their strange little bodies. They were known as the Ignis.

  The Dark Moon Ignis, known as Ai, was playful and mischievous but far too lax and short-sighted to take things seriously. The Light Moon Ignis, known as Lightning, was cold and hard but knowing and wise, often called the leader of his troop of Ignis. The Earth Moon Ignis was known simply as Earth and he was good-hearted and kind, but socially awkward. The Fire Moon Ignis, he called himself Flame which was a name imbued with indomitable spirit, or so he claimed, was level-headed and intelligent, but unable to reliably state his truest intentions and often hindered by whims. The Water Moon Ignis, known as Aqua, was sweet with the gift to detect lies and truths, but she was of little courage or independence. The Wind Moon Ignis, nicknamed Windy, was fun-loving and self-preserving. Furthermore, in contrary to his female counterpart, independent to a fault.

  Regardless, all six of these lunar Heirs, who lived the life of luxury, were tied by bonds which were sacred and strong. Not just among each other, but among their Ignis too. Their lives were blessed by the soft, twinkling starlight emanating through the ever-expanding abyss of space, wherein their beautiful moon co-existed with the beautiful, blue planet.

  For as long as there had been denizens of the moon, there had been speculation about the beautiful blue planet the moon orbited.

  It was large. Far larger than the moon, or so by the mathematics of the scientists who watched this planet. It swirled with clouds and was, for the most part, enveloped with water. It was a point of beauty and envy in the culture of the Empire of the Moon. It was the centre point of many pieces of poetry and stories and conversations and it all culminated, essentially, in one question: are there people there too?

  Even the lunar Heirs couldn’t escape such questions. The Water Moon Princess in particular, she found it rather romantic. It made sense though; her bloodline had always had a magnetic attraction to the Blue Planet though. It was in the make-up of their souls, or so Aqua believed. It was a pattern she had seen in many generations of the Water Moon Clan.

  So, perhaps, it made sense that when the miraculous happened, it was the Water Moon Princess sent to marvel at it.

  “I am the Water Moon Princess, who are you? How did you get here?” she asked, fumbling with her voice as she could not believe the person who stood before her, totally unlike anything she had ever seen.

  “I am the Emissary of the Blue Planet.”

  The Water Moon Princess’s breath was taken away as her eyes fell upon the Emissary of the Blue Planet. She was a gorgeous young woman, with flowing blue hair, and angelic wings upon her back. She smiled but there was a sadness in her eyes; especially as they flicked to behind her, where her guard stood. He was a man and he was a hound, stern and tall.

  “I am called Blue Maiden.”

  “It is wonderful to meet you. But, for what purpose have you been brought here? And by what designs, we have never known such magic or science which permits such travel…?”

  “My longing is just so powerful…” the Blue Maiden mourned. “I am so terribly lonely, with just my brother and I.”

  “I see. I understand. Well, as the Water Moon Princess, I welcome you.” She drew closer, her gown flowing around her like liquid. “I hope that, from now onwards, you will never have to be lonely.”

  Their hands interlocked, and the moment held. Paused. Lingered. And their hearts beat swiftly, but as one. It was love, not just at first sight but a sustained infatuation. They spent their time together in dulcet bliss. Their love was an innocent love, marked in the exchange of breath and roses.

  The Water Moon Princess adored roses. There were flowers on the moon, but no flowers quite like the ruffled petals of roses. There were white flowers which were similar, carnations, but none with the colour variation of the roses the Blue Maiden had brought her. They were such a lovely hue of blue, so dreamy and soft. The Blue Maiden described the colour as being like the sky; something the Water Moon Princess was enthralled by.

  However, such days of idle, sapphic love had to come to an end.

  However, such days of idle paradise had to come to an end. After millennia of peace and serenity, the unthinkable had happened. An upheaval occurred. One which was violent and bloody, led by the Knights of Hanoi.

  The revolution was sudden and took the whole Empire by surprise and all denizens of the Empire suffered for it.

  The Princes and the Princess led their battered armies against the soldiers of the Knights of Hanoi but, it was in vain. The ambush had destroyed most of their resources and the whole moon itself seemed to crumble around the might of the uprisen Knights of Hanoi, so, the heirs did what they could.

  The Water Moon Princess, with a wavering heart, was forced to leave behind her lover, Blue Miaden. She took her to safety and begged her to stay. Blue Maiden sobbed as the Water Moon Prince regrouped with her fellow, lunar heirs. Aqua watched, silent, but knowing of things to come.

  The lunar heirs continued to herd their precious civilians, those who had survived the initial blows against their empire, to safety. Then, abandoned them with the hope that the last of their strongholds would protect them until the end was reached and resolved. As a group, aided by their Ignis vassals, they made their way through the destruction. Their Empire once beautiful was now shattered and smashed. It was hard to stomach, but they took it all with grace as they waded through the debris and found the leader, waiting, for them.

  “Who are you?” the Fire Moon Prince yelled.

  “What is your motive?” the Dark Moon Prince asked: his voice loud and firm.

  The other princes and the princess awaited the answer. Their weapons were drawn but their hearts too heavy, too laden with mourning, caused them to be unready. But their enemy did not mind. He appeared to require a game of them.

  He was a nefarious character. He wore a mask to conceal his identity and it left him seeming like a devil. He was dressed in garb which was not of the Blue Planet, something the Water Moon Princess was thankful of, but rather in a mockery of their own, lunar gowns and fabrics. He was a rebel, through and through. Signified as simply as how he wore his clothes.

  “I am Revolver.” their enemy replied. “And my Knights and I have designs far grander for this realm than any of you princelings could ever desire, after having lived for so long in want of nothing.”

  The Light Moon Prince coughed. His conviction wavered. He did not trust this person, not even slightly and he felt the scrutiny of Revolver from behind his mask. Especially as Revolver’s hand slowly lifted from his side and he reached out to his enemies.

  His movements were suspicious and rightly justified in that when he snapped his fingers, all hell broke loose. Beasts – magnificent, large, and with gleaming scales and terrifying claws – seemed to have manifested from nowhere and they lunged at the heirs.

  The Dark Moon Prince went to protect the others. His first instinct was to push himself, of course. His impulse was to put others above him and he had that in common with the Fire Moon Prince. Both attempted to take the lashings of the creatures on their own bodies than to let them hurt even a hair upon the heads of the other heirs.

  As they coursed forward, swords in hand, and screaming obscenities at Revolver who taunted them from the backlines, Blue Maiden made her move.

  She came out of hiding and she took the hand of her beloved Water Moon Princess.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed unto her lover.

  “Please,” Blue Maiden begged, “let my brother and I take you back to the Blue Planet, we can keep you safe from these fiends.”

  The Water Moon Princess rejected Blue Maiden – with tears in her eyes – as she drew her convictions back to the awful fighting just beyond them. So, Blue Maiden, wept, but she fled: her heart still burgeoned with the desire to protect the love of her life, the Water Moon Princess. So, unwillingly, she turned her back on her and allowed the Lunar Heirs to run their course with their weapons. But the fighting which ensued was one-sided. Revolver’s draconic army was far more powerful than a handful for princelings could bear.

  When Blue Maiden returned with her guard and brother, the Tindangle Hound, in tow, her love and the princes had been near obliterated.

  The Moon had transformed from a place of beautiful, idyllic serenity into a wasteland. Rocks were torn up and the ground itself was gouged. Blood and dust and ash stained the debris and the air they swallowed. It was sickening to look upon, but Revolver still loomed.

  “And now,” he said as he approached the Earth Moon Prince, “I will take your Lunar Claims.”

  “No! Nooo!” the Dark Moon Prince screamed whilst the Earth Moon Prince, with tears glittering in his eyes, seemed to accept his fate. His Ignis laid, slain, beside him.

  The Lunar Claims were the very core of their beings. They were the manifestation of not only royal title, but themselves. It stored and amplified the powers which flowed through the Moon and through their weapons and through their veins. It contained celestial ichor and their souls. All of it stored as jewel upon their crowns, embedded deeply not just within the rose gold but within themselves.

  Revolver reached down and the Tindangle Hound, not knowing any of this, could only take the situation as he knew. That was, someone innocent was about to be murdered and he would not allow such a travesty to come to pass. With a grandiose howl, he did what he had to do to protect his sister, Blue Maiden, the one she loved, the Water Moon Princess, and those closest to him.

  His howl, so deep and coarse, disrupted Revolver momentarily and the magic of the Blue Planet began to surge through the carnage. It riffled through the debris, moving rocks in hesitant and errant flicks as this was not magic welcome here on such a different plane. It was erratic and grand, but the light filled the gouges Revolver’s army had driven through the Moon and he stopped. Paused. It was a hallowed moment and though he could hold his breath for it, there was no need. He realised something ill was about to happen.

  The heirs realised that as well. The Earth Moon Prince made an attempt, though in vain, to escape but Revolver awakened to his senses and pulled him away from the barrier slowly constructed itself in lucid, azure light.

  Blue Maiden’s hands intertwined with the Water Moon Princess. “Whatever happens,” Blue Maiden said, “we will find each other again.”

  She was grave with dew-drop tears in her eyes. She knew the spell her brother had recited. It was a spell which could assail time and space itself.

  “Yes, of course, I will always find you.” The Water Moon Princess promised.

  The princes spared grim looks among each other before the light, so bright and blue, ate away all they could perceive. And then. Nothing.

  The Moon fell. And the heirs, with exception of the Earth Moon Prince, for better or worse, were protected. Sent through time, reincarnated, and placed in protection by the Tindangle Hound. But such static protection would not and could not last. Not when the machinations of Revolver and his Knights persisted. Not when the promise between Blue Maiden and the Water Moon Princess persisted.

  And thus, Aoi Zaizen took a breath and she felt as though rather than sleeping and dreaming, she had just resurfaced after a very long time submerged in water. She glanced around. Foggy and mumbling about something… something – or someone – important to her. Dreams slipped through her fingers and she could feel hollow, hallowed touches on her hands as she got out of bed for the day.

  But today was not going to be an ordinary day for her dreams had come as close as they ever had to reminding her of the events from a thousand years ago and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to expand on this AU in the future as there was a minor/implied ship in this fic I didn't get to explore. That ship, of course, being Yusaku/Jin/Spectre/Takeru/Miyu/Windy's Origin.


	12. Day 8b - Dreams

  Aoi bolted upright and Spectre groaned next to her. He was getting sick of this. He slowly raised his own body and swayed slightly, rubbing his eyes. She blushed next to him when their shoulders met however briefly. Over them both, her doona cover crinkled, and she held onto it tightly.

  “I can’t do this.” she confessed.

  “Can’t do what?” Spectre asked in reply. “Sleep? Because my dear, I’ve more than noticed. That’s just spouting the obvious at this point.”

  Aoi wanted to fume over that little remark. But she was too tired for that.

  “I just can’t sleep with you in my bed, is all. It’s not right…” Aoi mumbled.

  Spectre huffed. “Yes, it is a little awkward, I suppose. We’re not used to each other yet, but this is what couples do and I’m not sure if you have noticed this, my sweet, but we’ve been coupled up for quite some time.”

  Aoi especially wanted to huff and fume over such sarcasm but again, her eyes were too weary, and her head pounded. She just wanted to sleep.

  “I’ve never slept with a boy before, is all.” Aoi mumbled.

  “Really?” Spectre raised a brow over that. “Not even with you’re older brother?”

  “Well, of course, I’ve slept with him but he’s not a boy-boy. You’re a boy-boy.” Aoi retorted.

  Spectre wanted to laugh at her reply because it reminded him of what a pair they made. She had a brother complex and he had a mother complex. They were truly a match made in heaven, weren’t they on that note?

  Regardless, her statements had clarified a little. She had never slept with someone outside of her gender and outside of her family. He suspects that he might be more awkward if he weren’t used to it either. He recalled being made to sleep next to plenty of other children in orphanage, on mats with not much more distance between he and Aoi currently. Still, he had detested it as a child.

  Though, as he and Aoi shared a bed now, he was glad that he had changed. He liked the comfort that came with having another human in such close proximity; the warmth and closeness of it all. After all, there was nothing more that Spectre adored than intimacy as he was extremely touch starved.

  “Can I try something?” Aoi asked.

  “What, my darling?” Spectre asked as he yawned.

  “Give me a second…” Aoi murmured.

  She climbed out of the bed and it moved with her. Up and down with slight creaking. Spectre craned his head as he watched Aoi fossick about in a girlish trunk by the window. She looked stunning in the pale moonlight which streamed in just beyond the glass and curtains. Then, she pulled out something and her body stiffened with satisfaction.

  Spectre squinted through the bluish-black darkness. He assessed that it was a doll of some sort, likely not made of porcelain based on how it wasn’t reflecting any light, but he still wasn’t overly certain of its form. Its body had strange oblong antenna and a huge head; disrupting patterns of normalcy. Regardless, Aoi seemed to adore it. She then hugged her item close to her chest and brought it back into bed.

  She wriggled in next to him and Spectre was forced closer to the wall. He touched up against it briefly, and it was cold, whilst Aoi made room for their new companion. She laid her head next to it and Spectre was finally able to identify her ugly little teddy bear. It wasn’t a teddy bear at all. It was a plush doll modelled after a Duel Monster; Evilswarm Mandragora, Spectre is quite certain unless his eyes deceived him.

  His brow twinged as he was made to feel like he was somehow inferior to a plushie.

  “My dear, what is this? What was your… idea?” he asked, cynical.

  “This is Dora, she’s my favourite plushie ever. She’s very old, so be gentle with her. I’ve had her since I was born… And I just thought I’d feel more comfortable if we had some… distance, between us.” Aoi explained; adorable in how rambling she sounded.

  Spectre sighed sharply. “Very well then. But wouldn’t a pillow work?”

  “Well… yes…” Aoi murmured. “But that’s not the point. The point was to relax me; make me feel less… jittery over this.”

  “Alright, I relent.” Spectre said.

  “Thank you.” Replied Aoi.

  She leaned over Dora and pecked Spectre’s lips. He kissed back chastely, trying to incite her to something a bit longer but Aoi broke off the kiss. She smiled.

  “Good night, Spectre, sweet dreams.”

  Aoi placed her head on her pillow, curling in against her doll. Her hand delicately resting atop the plump, felted stomach of the thing. Spectre settled again in the bed. He adjusted the sheets and doona and then placed his hand over Aoi’s. He smiled. He could tell Aoi was finally relaxed and that soothed him.

  “Good night, my love. Sweet dreams…” he mumbled as his eyes fluttered close.


	13. Day 9 - Favourite Card

  It was in this virtual space where fantasy could be perused as reality, so that things could be misconstrued all for the sake of serenity amid unrelenting guilt. The mind was easily fooled, as seemingly stable and knowing as it was. It was here that Ryoken – nay, Revolver – could find peace, as odd sounding as that was due to the more nefarious nature of the internet he inhabited.

  Perhaps that is part of why he held such disdain for the information overload. It tempted him unto things which were unbecoming. Still, he enjoyed these moments wherein he allowed himself to be brought to brink of temptation and given peace he did not know well in the hours he spent in sun and not the screen.

  Tonight, was one such night.

  He couldn’t sleep. He can hardly sleep with all that which weighs down on him with an Atlas-like burden but still, tonight was different. There was a symbolism the night. It was serene, it was peaceful, it was magical and yet, in reverse like a tarot card, it could spell out confusions and anxieties. Tonight, was one such night.

  Thus, Revolver plunged himself into a realm where the silvery moonlight was synthetic. It was nearly lycanthropic. In the real, trickling moonlight, he would be safe, but it was in the nights netted by zeroes and one which brought out claws and fangs of an inhumane calibre within Revolver.

  His true body, his real body, remained under the curvature of his specialised apparatus he used for his Hanoi activities whilst his mind was free to descend into the chaotic and mad realm of the internet; of the Vrains. And it was there that he wandered until he could hide this deceitful, untrue body somewhere where no other avatar could disturb him.

  He found a nook which had been damaged by a Data Storm. The immersion was thin here. White static glowed in haphazard chunks in places where cement and tiles were supposed to be textured instead. It was nice here. Fuzzy, lonely, and nearly abandoned. Still, he turned a corner and he found an alleyway where he could hide himself.

  Revolver let his body slump against the back of a wall. He held his head between his hands. He hung himself with thoughts of terrible, terrible things. The synthesised cool of the night did little to bring him comfort but he tried to let the night take him.

  Eventually the thoughts of death and guilt petered out until his mind was blank. And it was in that, near comatose state that Revolver found himself once more on that brink. That cliff between sanity and madness. Underneath his mask, upon his unfeeling mouth, he felt a twinge upon his lips.

  Revolver lifted his wrist and held onto his knee. With his other hand, he flipped through his electronic deck. Each card brought another twinge upon his lips. His deck knew things about him that other people, that himself even, couldn’t possibly know or understand. They accepted him but there was one card within the stack which meant more to Revolver than anything else in this world of zeroes and ones. Borreload Dragon.

  To claim Borreload Dragon as anything less than his favourite card was an understatement. It was more than just his ace monster, it had a special connection to him. A connection that sometimes went farther than such a connection should be. Hence, the brink of temptation.

  Revolver’s bond to this monster was beyond that of master and partner. It wasn’t strictly platonic, per se. Sometimes it was carnal or primal and over times it was the only anchor he had when he wasn’t coping well with the more traumatic aspects of his life. And tonight, was one of those nights where these distinctions had little meaning. They were blurred. It was a difficult, uncomfortable feeling because one was not supposed to have feelings like these. Affections intended for something as unfeeling and eternal like a Duel Monster card.

  Nevertheless, Revolver perked up once he had accessed his extra deck. The familiar blue of the Link summon card was forever a comfort. The twinges upon Revolver’s lips had been bitter prior. Now, he could taste something sweet and chaste yet sickly and toxic, like cyanide. This was his poison; his favourite poison.

  Still, his mood lifted. For the first time in hours, Revolver felt a tiny twinkle of wellness and content within his leaden chest. He stood up. His cards remained screened and now, they were just beneath his eye level. He let his hand ghost over Borreload Dragon’s card. His heart faltered but his rising mood did not deflate.

  He took a breath. He imagined himself on that brink, that cliff face, and he found himself not preparing for a jump but something else.

  “I summon Borreload Dragon in attack mode.” he mumbled under his breath.

  The darkness of this little spot soon lit up with the cascading light which came with a summon. Even one like this with no purpose. Well, no overt purpose anyway. The alleyway trembled with the grandiose roar of Borreload Dragon, but Revolver stood his ground. That roar had the capacity to fill most with dread, but he was the exception. It reminded him that there was still comfort in the dark.

  Borreload Dragon bowed its head to Revolver. It looked down on him with simulated curiosity. Revolver lifted his head and he began to reach for Revolver. His heart faltered again and there were butterflies in his stomach: a dulcet nervousness. He smiled. Borreload Dragon continued to bow its head so that its forehead may bump against Revolver’s glove palm.

  The simulation of contact ensued but it felt like nothing. It was just a trick of the senses, but Revolver didn’t mind. Then, Borreload Dragon retreated. A spark of animosity ignited in Revolver’s chest, briefly, like a lighter which couldn’t start. He wanted more but he knew he could never. Regardless, he stepped closer. He snapped his fingers. Borreload Dragon whined but obeyed.

  Revolver ran his fingers down the steep cliff of Borreload Dragon’s crest. He then kissed, lightly, between the ridges of its forehead. The kiss was made of nothing, but it meant everything to Revolver. He knew this feeling, this guilty and corrupt feeling of content, was as good as he was ever going to feel tonight. So, he wanted to savour it for as long as he could so that he would have memories of it to cherish later. Borreload Dragon whined once more.

  “Hush now,” Revolver whispered, and his fingers tightened on Borreload Dragon’s head, “I just need you a little longer.”


	14. Day 10a - Soulmate AU

   Takeru was scared of Flame. To begin with, at first. Who wouldn’t be?

  A mysterious figure, an amorphous and decidedly non-human being, making contact with you? Trying to incite you to some sort of virtual war? And having been birthed from something monstrous and torturous. Of course, Takeru was scared of Flame. He was downright terrified of Flame and everything he represented.

   But then Takeru got a taste for victory.

  Victory was the sweetest sugar to Takeru. It was undeniably wrought into his brain that if he won, he would not starve. He would not have to hurt. And even a decade later, after never touching his cards or Duel Disc, he was given those dreadful hunger pangs. He shuddered at the thought of loss; he could feel the tingle of electricity deep within his muscle. He knew he was imagining it all, but Flame was proof that other things.

  Fortunately, those “other things” would not prove to be all bad. Even though Takeru felt himself cowardly and addicted but with Flame by his side, he felt as though he could embrace moderation. He felt as though he could conquer the parts of him that he was afraid.

  Suddenly, bit by bit, Flame wasn’t scary. Duelling wasn’t scary. The consequences of duels could leave him a little spooked but Takeru was confident that he wouldn’t lose. Perhaps it was arrogant, perhaps it wasn’t.

  Regardless, he enjoyed the attention from Flame. The approving nods and the thumbs-ups that he got. It sated the hunger and made him feel good. He often felt like he was dying beneath the ire of his grandfather and he was often at the scrutinity of his peers and teachers too. It all crushed him and Flame, who was integral to his trauma due to being born from it, validated him in ways that he didn’t usually experience.

  So, Takeru has something of a theory.

  He thinks that Flame might his soul mate. After all, as an Ignis, he had been born from how Takeru had duelled for his life in those hellish six months so, flame was a part of his soul in very strange and nightmarish ways. Takeru accepted that. There was more to their relationship than just pain – and praise – but it was important to acknowledge that, he thinks.

  Their relationship had evolved from that. Just like Takeru had progressed from being something of a delinquent. Lashing out randomly because he didn’t have the proper outlets for what he still felt a decade on and how the things which followed coloured his past.

  But with Flame, he found himself becoming a better person. Someone less bitter and more outgoing.

  Takeru loves Flame. Be it romantically or platonically or famillally or in a way that only he can understand wordlessly, he does love Flame. Perhaps not openly but in small, shared ways. Flame knows Takeru loves him. He does reciprocate, to some complicated extent. Perhaps not in kisses and the like, but he does reciprocate.

  How could Takeru not love Flame?

  After all, Flame was a part of him. One way or another. He was a part of his soul.


	15. Day 10b - Soulmate AU

  Ryoken tugged on Assistant Taki’s sleeve and she hummed. She acknowledged him, looking down as she her eyes moved away from the clipboard she was holding; pinned to it was all sorts of anecodtes and observations. Mere metres away from them was of course the set of holding cells the Test Subjects were being held.

  “Hey, you’re a nurse, right?” Ryoken asked.

  “Well, not yet. Once I graduate, I will be.” Assistant Taki replied, musing and she tapped her pen idly against the clipboard.

  Ryoken blinked owlishly. “Will you still be able to answer my question?” he asked.

  “Depends.” she shrugged. “What is it?”

  “Why is that I can see in colour? Last week I wasn’t able to, now I can.” Ryoken asked.

  Assistant Taki smiled. There was a glimmer in her eyes which seemed to be in effect because she thought Ryoken was cute. He was eight years old, so he was still very adorable in his youth.

  “Well that’s a difficult question. No one is still completely sure as to the phenomenon as to why people are born with black-and-white vision then sometimes spontaneously develop a full spectrum of colours. When I was your age, I liked to believe the old wives’ tale.” Assistant Taki said.

  “What old wives’ tale?” Ryoken asked, his breath slowly being spirited away by some sort of romantic hope that he had.

  Assistant Taki sighed. She glanced around. “Well, the story goes that when two people meet, eye contact and all, and they both see in colour then it means they’re soul mates.”

  Ryoken gasped. “Soul mates?” he exclaimed.

  “Kyoko…” a gravelly voice emanated from behind Assistant Taki.

  “Yes, Dr Kogami?” she said, prompted.

  “You’re not filling my son’s head with fairy tales, are you?” he asked, and he scowled disapprovingly unto his son who looked positively starstruck.

  “Perhaps, but I was about to go on to explain as to why such things are impossible.” Assistant Taki said.

  “Run along, Ryoken. You’re distracting Kyoko.” Dr Kogami said.

  “Understood, Father.” Ryoken obediently replied.

  His head dipped down, and he shuffled off. His father patted his shoulder as he passed by. Ryoken stiffened at his touch and Ryoken glanced over his shoulder. Beyond the corridor he and Assistant Taki had been lurking in, he could see all the containment cells in a row and the children just beyond the two-way glass. Ryoken shivered and he retracted his gaze. His movements were small and above him, his father shot a disapproving look towards his assistant. She sighed rebelliously and then stuck her nose to the notes.

  Assistant Taki masked her concern with nonchalance. She hoped, sincerely, that the stories weren’t true because if such stories were true, that likely did not bode well for Ryoken. She feared that his soul mate was one of the children in captivity – how cruel fate must be if the stories were true and this was the circumstance in which such tales had provided for them.

  Assistant Taki was not entirely correct in her fears. It was not one, sole child who had given Ryoken the ability to see in colour. It had been all of them.

  Ryoken continued to take off and his hands were stuck fiercely in the joey pouch of his jumper. He pouted. He wished there was more he could do but it was early days yet. The experiment had barely taken off so Ryoken thought such things, such as thinking about – and empathising with – the children might be permitted.

  He recalled how one by one, they introduced more colour into his sight. The blue-haired boy had given him purples and indigos. The grey-eyed boy had given him yellows and creams. The blue-eyed boy had introduced had given him to the colours of green and brown. The white-and-red-haired boy had introduced reds and oranges.  The girl had introduced blues and pinks to his eye. The fifth boy – the final child of the experiment – had gifted Ryoken whatever remained on the spectrum that the previous six children could not give him.

  It was peculiar and exciting and Ryoken didn’t know what to make of it. He was a child, after all. Oblivious to the designs of fate – and to the concerns of worldlier people, such as Assistant Taki or his father. Ryoken just wanted to enjoy the newfound colour in his life, especially since it came with such a romantic origin. Soul mates, after all. What a lovely-sounding thing to an eight-year-old boy.


	16. Day 11a - Music

  The Earth Ignis was… socially awkward but the Water Ignis knew. She understood. Being charming and charismatic could be difficult. Besides, she found it kind of endearing. Especially when his eyes squinted, and his face flashed with quirky lights. It was really, really, really cute.

  Besides, his companionship, or so she found, was very valuable in ways the others couldn’t be. The Dark Ignis was too loud, and she didn’t feel as though she had much in common with the Fire Ignis. The Light Ignis was hard to read and the Wind Ignis gave her apparitions of bad intuitions. The Earth Ignis, however, was so sweet and genuine.

  He may not always give her space, but sometimes, she liked having him close by. She liked to round him up and sit him down by her favourite stream. He would make comments, here and there, about the scenery. The same sort of thing every time. Idle musings about how lovely it was sit out here in nature but, the Cyberse World was mostly unchanging. It was hard to talk about something new because there was, rather rarely, something new.

  So, they would sit, side by side, the Water Ignis’s head against the Earth Ignis’s shoulders and doze. They wouldn’t exactly sleep but their eyes would flutter close, holding hands, and just rest. They would enjoy the peace and serenity of it all. The chatter of the stream was music unto their sensory organs; they didn’t exactly have “ears” after all. The cool of the breeze was lovely and the rustle of trees a musical piece as well.

  It was serene. Ideal. These were the kinds of days that the Water Ignis wanted to forever remain idle within. She didn’t need or want change. She did not hunger for violence or war, like she feared – like she knew – the others of her kind did. She just needed peace and love.

  After all, she was more than aware of the Earth Ignis’s crush on her. She requited it, in fact. She never voiced this requiting love she had unto him. It seemed like there was no point. Her feelings were subdued but they were there. They were real. The Water Ignis genuinely cherished the time she spent with the Earth Ignis and the companionship he offered her.

  With the stream chattering, music unto her senses, and with the Earth Ignis beside her in idleness, dozing, it was hard to want for more. The Water Ignis was content. She truly did enjoy these lovely days of nothing but nothing.


	17. Day 11b - Sweets

  Ryoken snuck into the hospital. Well, he attempted to sneak in anyway because he knew he shouldn’t be visiting but he couldn’t stay away. The receptionist vaguely blinked at him and before she knew it, he disappeared. Besides, Ryoken had already hacked the hospital’s data ahead of time and had the layout of its floorplan saved to his phone and knew exactly what room he was headed for.

  So, he made a beeline for it. He blended in well, especially when people didn’t realise that he was a feared cyber terrorist. He headed up a stairwell and then kept going. People passed by without even glancing at him, then he found the room he was after. It was neatly labelled 206 and with the name Kusanagi Jin on the plaque.

  He knocked. And a voice called out: “Who’s there?”

  “Me.”

  Ryoken then let himself in and Jin huffed.

  “You’re supposed to make an appointment ahead of time.” Jin said.

“Do you really think your nurses would let that fly? Shoichi would get a call and I would be blacklisted forever.” Ryoken replied.

  “Very well then, I’m glad to see you then.” Jin said.

  Ryoken pulled up a chair and moved it closer to Jin’s bed. His private room was nice; airy but still smelling heavily of disinfectant. Sunshine came in through the window and there was a book in his lap.

  “How have you been?” Ryoken asked.

  “Making huge improvements.” Jin replied. “The doctors say that if physical therapy goes well, I can go to regular high school next year. With Yusaku and Takeru. I hope I get put in their classes. But, for now, I have to take baby steps.”

  “I’m glad. That sounds really good, Jin.” Ryoken replied with a rather dreamy smile.

  “So, what brings you here?” Jin asked.

  “This.” Ryoken said and he pulled out a small box from his breast pocket. He opened it up and revealed four chocolates set into plastic.

“I’m not supposed to eat unauthorised food.” Jin said.

  Ryoken huffed. “Rebel, a little. Aren’t you at least dying to try something out of the ordinary?”

  “I think I’ve had more than enough excitement these past few months.” Jin said.

  “Just one piece. They’re a premium brand, too.” Ryoken said.

“You are a terrible influence on me.” Jin said.

  “Someone has to be.” Ryoken flirted.

  “Just one piece then…” Jin mumbled.

  “Then pick your poison. We’ve got seashells, a seahorse, and an ammonite to pick from.” Ryoken said.

“I see…” Jin said.

“They’re all milk-white mixes with praline.” Ryoken said.

“Uh-huh…” Jin murmured as he picked out a seashell.

  He popped it in his mouth and chewed it thoroughly. He smiled curtly.

“Not my favourite…” he murmured. “But thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Ryoken said and he leaned in. He pecked Jin’s cheek and Jin blushed.

  Ryoken pulled back and he ate the seahorse-shaped chocolate. He mulled over the taste as he ate. He couldn’t say that it was his favourite either, but he knew Jin preferred things which weren’t headache inducing, amongst other things.

“So, what is your favourite sweet?” Ryoken asked and, without even thinking, he picked out the remaining chocolate in the little box.

  “Hm…” Jin mused and then blithely chirruped: “You.”

  Ryoken sputtered in reply, embarrassed and going red to Jin’s utter amusement.


	18. Day 12 - Sickfic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sick fic? I thought you said a squick fic!

  “Y-You did well today, Ai. I appreciate your company, too.” Yusaku said, awkwardly through teeth which were not quite gritted, but it hadn’t come from his mouth willingly.

  “Why thank you, thank you. I really am the quite the best, aren’t I?” Ai gushed over himself, ever so vain.

  Yusaku’s lips twitched. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah.” he agreed mutedly.

  “We should celebrate!” Ai yelled, deciding more so for himself than for the both of them.

  Yusaku hummed.

  Ai hummed as well, and his goofy eyelids pressed downwards over his eyes in deep thought.

  “Well, we’re pals, right? Partners, even?” Ai rambled.

  “Yeah. We’re partners.” Yusaku said but the words felt clunky on his tongue even though they were genuine.

  “Then it should be easy then.” Ai said, and he snapped his fingers. He looked up at Yusaku. “We should kiss.”

  “Oh! You mean we’re partners in that sort of partners.” Yusaku replied, off-guard and he blushed.

   “Well, why not?” Ai asked.

  Yusaku shrugged. He was sort of experiencing all sorts of feelings for the first sort of time. He felt renewed. After all, a lot had been said and done in the past few hours. Everything was more or less resolved. He could feel new things burgeon in his chest as a result of it. He finally felt freed of his past, even though his past had culminated as it had – and with Ai in tow, of course.

  “C’mon, at least be a little enthusiastic for me.” Ai begged.

  “Yeah, sure.” Yusaku said in an octave more vibrant that usual.

  “Good enough.” Ai decided.

Yusaku smiled. Ai reached up from the duel disc where he resided. His legs extended, and his body shifted until he was that strange, amorphous creature he often took. He rubbed his face up against Yusaku’s cheek. Yusaku cringed slightly but it was a good sort of cringe; a happy sort of embarrassment due to not being used to affection but trying to willingly open himself to it.

  Yusaku puckered his lips and closed his eyes. He could feel the nubs of Ai’s limbs roll over his skin, curious as to how he felt. Yusaku stiffened slightly. The texture of Ai’s body was odd to say the least. It was light, but it had weight. He was strange, warm but strange. Soft too, but kind of filmy. It was bizarre.

  Thus, it was very disconcerting when Ai finally planted a big sloppy kiss on Yusaku’s lips. Yusaku soured, as though he had bitten into a lemon. Ai tasted like printer ink, to be honest. And it was more than apparent between the two of them that even though they knew, hypothetically, how a kiss should be performed that neither had the practice to back the theory.

  Yusaku attempted to kiss back. Ai’s lips wrapped tightly around jagged pieces that he supposed could be called teeth. They acted as such. Ai pressed his tongue forward and licked over Yusaku’s lips. Yusaku didn’t realise how sensitive and ticklish he was on those spots above his upper lip where Ai greedily licked over him.

  Ai hummed. It was fun. Kissing was very fun. It was very, very, very fun, even. Kissing Yusaku was fun. It got him giddy and he couldn’t think straight. Yusaku tasted meaty. Though, that was a given considering he was a flesh bag of a human. It was good, though.

  Although, it did get Ai just a little hungry. Just a teensy-bit.

  So, at this point, he gave up on kissing Yusaku and decided that heavy petting and licking was preferable. Yusaku didn’t really have a say in this change but he wasn’t against it. He didn’t mind how wet his face was getting because of Ai’s rather thorough technique. In fact, he could kind of get into now that he was saw of used to the texture of Ai’s tongue – it was kind of squishy and like soft plastic, only it dripped with saliva which had a distinct, twinge of something syrupy in it.

  Ai continued to lash Yusaku’s face with his tongue. The swipes were no longer restricted to Yusaku’s mouth, however, and now Ai felt free to trawl along the side of Yusaku’s face. Yusaku coughed awkwardly. He felt slimy because of all the drool but at the same time, with the flush of emotions going through him, he also felt tingly. It was a good sort of tingly. Especially since Ai wasn’t just petting him with his tongue but his tentacles as well.

  The thick nubs wrapped around Yusaku and explored his body. They were soft but firm. They held him still, even wrapping around his hands and holding them. It was sweet even, for as weird at it was anyway. It relaxed Yusaku, having something so pleasantly anchoring him even as his eyes were closed and so on and so forth.

  But then, Ai’s mouth widened a little and Yusaku could feel Ai begin to nip at him. At first, it was small experimentations on the harder parts of Yusaku’s face. He didn’t even notice at first until Ai had gotten bolder and had gone straight for his nose.

  “What are you doing?” Yusaku asked, eyes fluttering open as the reality of the situation returned to him. He felt sopping wet and a bit weirded out.

  Ai hummed, and his jaw began to expand. It unhinged and Yusaku’s blood ran cold. He swallowed. And so, did Ai. Yusaku was being eaten. Ai made gulping noises and Yusaku felt contractions around him as the black mass which was Ai’s innards pulsed. Correction. He was eaten. Fortunately, because he wasn’t a program, he couldn’t be shattered and consumed but he could still be wrapped up in way too much intensity.

  “Ai! What do you think you’re doing? Ai!” Yusaku yelped.

  Ai’s eyeball widened. “Whoops.” He mumbled, partially choking on Yusaku.

  With an unceremonious coughing noise, Yusaku was spat out or maybe Ai retracted back. Either way, there was an awkward moment between them. That had been one way to finish their very first kiss…


	19. 13a - First Date

  To call it “a date” would be a generous assertion as to what it exactly was.

  It was the first time that they had all been under the same roof together and it was as chaotic as you would expect for three adults all to be crammed under the same roof of a hot dog van and were trying their best to rally around the youths they warded. Well, with exception of Ema. She didn’t quite have the familial connection to Yusaku and Aoi like Shoichi and Akira did respectively but, given that this is “a date”, she might get there eventually as some sort of sister figure eventually. Or worse, and Ema shudders at this thought, as an aunt or mother figure. Disgusting.

  Well, she could handle mentor figure. She was Aoi’s mentor figure, after all. She would become a right proper treasure hunter one day underneath Ema’s guidance, but she was still hesitant to want to chalk the role up as sisterly or, worse yet, maternally. She wasn’t exactly the world’s best sister; just look at her feud with her brother, after all.

  Nonetheless, she enjoyed how the teenagers had wormed into her life as it had certainly given her new connections. She enjoyed having something renewed in common with Akira and chasing Playmaker had landed her with Shoichi and she liked Shoichi. He amused her.

  Though what they were doing was messy and untidy and all around unpleasant due to the hot dog smell and burning computers, it was a date. After all, they were all there – physically – under one roof and they were doing activities together. Said activities were illegal and whatnot but still, it counts. Probably. And they had food too. It wasn’t good food, but it was food and it as stressful as this whole “trying to save the Link Vrains” gig was, it was still fun to pig out and play games. Well, what were essentially games. They were trying to bypass a good many firewalls.

  It totally counts as a date though. At least to Ema who most certainly had her eyes on both men she was currently in the companionship of. She hoped that they had eyes for each other as well. It would make this date a lot easier if they could all just share each other instead of it being stilted and open-ended and only one person was being shared rather than all three.


	20. Day 13b - First Date

   Yusaku tapped his screen and then took a suck from the straw jutting out of his juice box. “And you are live, Takeru. Enjoy chatting with your friend.”

  “Yusaku!” Takeru whined. “She’s not just my friend, she’s my girlfriend.”

  “Whatever. I’ll just go upstairs and mind my own. You’ll know where to find me if something goes wrong. On a technical level. I can’t be held responsible if you mess things up with your girlfriend.” Yusaku replied.

  “Takeru?” a third voice – distinctly feminine – entered the air. “Who is that?”

  “Yep, that’s my cue to leave.” Yusaku mumbled.

  Yusaku then pardoned himself. Takeru then drew his gaze back to the computer monitor.

  “So, who was that?” Kiku asked.

  “My friend. Yusaku. We go to the same school and, um, we’ve technically met before… Years ago.” Takeru replied.

  Kiku’s eyes widened – something which looked extremely goofy through the sheen of pixels – and she seemed to understand the implications of what Takeru meant.

  “I’m glad you two’re able to get along.” Kiku said.

  “Yep, and he’s totally wing-manning right now. I mean, this is his place, after all.” Takeru said.

  “Oh, thank goodness.” Kiku sighed. “I didn’t want to say anything, but it looks like a dump.”

  Takeru laughed and Kiku’s eyes went wide again. Her cheeks also went red as she put her hand over her mouth.

  “Gosh, that was rude of me… But, why’s he…?” Kiku’s voice trailed off.

Takeru chuckled awkwardly. “C’mon, that’s enough about Yusaku. I mean, we’re here to talk about us. It’s our date, remember.”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Kiku agreed and she chortled. “So, how’s school going? Did you get any accommodations?”

   “Yes, yes. I’ve also got a study buddy or three. Aside from Yusaku, I’ve also made friends with some others – Shima, Aoi… We hold study sessions occasionally. When we’re not busy saving the Link Vrains and stuff.”

  “Wow, so you guys’re all like superheroes?” Kiku asked.

  “Well, Aoi, Yusaku, and I’re… Shima… not so much. But we appreciate the moral support – even though he doesn’t realise the very Duellists he looks up to are us.” Takeru laughed.

  “Oh gosh, the irony…” Kiku said. “But school itself is good? And are you eating well?”

  “Yes, Mom.” Takeru huffed. “But, uh, I’ve been eating… a lot of hot dogs. I don’t know how Yusaku does it…”

  “Hot dogs?” Kiku echoed.

  “Yeah, our base of headquarters is a hot dog van. Yusaku’s… legal guardian, yeah, sure let’s call him that, runs a hot dog selling business out the back of a truck. And I swear that isn’t as seedy as it sounds.”

  “Oh gosh, Takeru… Now I’m just worried for you.” Kiku said.

  “Well, I’m worried for you. The boys aren’t getting smutty with you now, are they since I’m gone? Because say the word and I’ll kick their asses. And how’re Nan and Pop? Same old, same old?”

  “No one’s made a move on me, you dunce.” Kiku huffed. “Everyone knows I’m very committed to our relationship.”

  “That’s good.” Takeru sighed a breath of relief.

  “And yeah, your grandparents are fine. A bit lonely with out you around but I visit them often.” Kiku said.

“That’s good.” Takeru said again and he smiled. “I’m really glad we can chat like this.”

  “Me too, Takeru.” Kiku replied.

  “Cyber smooch?” he suggested.

  “You’re such a dork.” Kiku laughed. “Cyber smooch.”

  Both teenagers leaned into their respective screens. They closed their eyes and made kissy noises into the monitor. It was something of a long-distance butterfly kiss. Though, an adorably embarrassing one.


	21. Day 14 - Time Travel

  Since coming to live with the Kusanagi Brothers at the local shrine, Yusaku has come to realise that there are a lot of things in this world which are rather over-explained. He wasn’t the spiritual type, so he didn’t really get it but Shoichi, the elder brother, loved to harp onto Yusaku anyway about all the stories and legends of the area. The Thousand-Year-Old tree and its significance and the uncanny ability of the way things go missing in the Hidden Well: these were all stories that Shoichi loved to spurn for his two wards. Yusaku listened but mostly to be polite and so that he didn’t have to converse back.

  However, as Yusaku traversed the forest, uncertain of every step that he took, he had come to wonder if perhaps there was genuine stock in what Shoichi had to ramble about.

  Yusaku swallowed. He retraced the impossible sequence of events in his head. It started when Jin, the younger brother, wanted to retrieve his cat – Lightning – from the Hidden Well. Lightning was a disagreeable cat who did what he wanted, when he wanted so it wasn’t unusual for him to find some sort of trouble. Today it was by somehow managing to go into the building which housed the Hidden Well.

  Jin, too overcome with fear regarding the Hidden Well, enlisted Yusaku to go grab his cat. Yusaku thought this was fine so he went down there. But there was a scratching. A great and terrible scratching – however, Yusaku ignored it and chalked it up to the cat whom he soon found stalking around the base of the well.

  Yusaku bent down and picked up Lightning and that’s when the seal atop the Hidden Well burst open. Jin screamed, and Lightning jumped out of Yusaku’s arms. Behind Yusaku, thousands of ghostly white hands burst and in the midst of such an ethereal illusion, real arms grabbed him and pulled him into the well.

  Yusaku screamed and as he fell through the air, it felt as though he were no longer in the well but in a different dimension. All around him was murky darkness: an inky, purplish-black and he was not alone.

  There was a creature. Long and taunt with unnatural proportions. A centipede and a human rolled into creature with arms and legs most foul. Thousands of legs, all conjoined to this long and rolling green body with a pink underbelly, which slowly flicked as flesh returned to the staunch, white bone. A face – humanlike – but with a jagged maw appeared before Yusaku and its arms – six in total upon its humanlike body.

  It lunged at him. All of its hands attempting to grab at him and Yusaku was terrified. His body turned stiff as he found himself useless to move in this space. He and the creature were both plummeting through it, but one of them had some sort of advantage due to size. Easily wriggling about and reaching out.

  Yusaku screamed. His mind shut down in his terror. His hands curled into fists, bringing them close to his chest as he tried to feebly protect himself from this monster. His eyes clenched shut and he searched deep inside himself for some sort of revelation. Yusaku was certain he was about to die, and he was certain that he would find something important to think about in these precious few moments and yet, he blanked. All he could fixate on was the fear. The thumping heart and rushing blood.

  The monster swiped at him. And it did not miss. But Yusaku was not harmed. Slowly, he opened his eyes and he found himself protected, though he could say – or recognise – what by. All he knew was that he was being shielded by some sort of divine pink-purple light, surrounding him and keeping him encapsulated. And when the monster had swiped at him, the light had completely protected him, and even from its future advances.

  When its hand had tried to pierce through the light, it had burnt the monster. Completely and utterly disintegrating its appendage. The monster howled. It recoiled back and disappeared into the darkness.

  Yusaku’s heart pounded and soon, he found himself on the ground. He hadn’t crashed into it, but he felt earth beneath his hands as he stared up into the darkness, slowly letting shafts of light into it. He smelt fresh air and he couldn’t see the monster. But his fear was real. That wasn’t some sort of illusion, Yusaku was certain as he got up.

  He looked around and he saw vines clinging to the walls of the well. He took a breath and grabbed onto one of the vines. Using it and the brick, Yusaku was able to scale the inside of the well. As he pulled himself up and over the edge, Yusaku realised that he wasn’t home anymore. He wasn’t even in Den City either, he was thinking as he glanced around and tried to evaluate his surroundings.

  He was in the middle of a meadow. It was bordered by trees and the sky was so wide and open. Clear, too without a nary cloud to be seen. It was utterly unfamiliar, and he was dumbfounded by it, and yet, he still was able to see something he knew in this place so strange. And now, Yusaku found himself willing to believe that the impossible were possible.

  Thus, Yusaku found himself staring – and later walking towards – a very familiar tree. It was tall and skinny, unnaturally so. It couldn’t be mistaken otherwise. It was a very familiar tree and if Yusaku’s hunch was right, it should be the same as the one that is enshrined at the Kusanagi Shrine: The Thousand-Year-Old Tree. Though, admittedly, it looked far younger than compared to how Yusaku was used to seeing it, so old and ancient.

  But as Yusaku approached it, he realised that not everything was the same. It was covered in vines; grasped around the tree trunk with a powerful grip which was mostly concentrated on the other side so, he drew curious. He walked around the front and he found something strange.

  Pinned to the trunk of the tree, was a peculiar-looking youth. He was bound tightly in vines and by an arrow which pierced his shoulder. He donned strange clothes, all of which were scarlet but as Yusaku got closer still to him, there was more than his garb which was odd. His hair was white with red-orange highlights, it was long too and rather fluffy. Atop his head, he had animal ears: they were rounded and striped, like a tiger’s.

  The youth looked as though he were sleeping and when Yusaku put his hand to his mouth, he could feel the youth draw breath and exhale. Yusaku’s brow furrowed. He looked around, perhaps for an explanation, perhaps not and he couldn’t make heads or tails of this situation. His eye was always catching and returning back to the arrow which pierced him.

  Yusaku’s mouth dried and his eyes darted away from the arrow. It didn’t seem to be hurting him. Nor were the vines which constricted him. And so, Yusaku tried to glean other information from him. There was something…. Uncomfortably familiar about him and yet, Yusaku could not think of a stranger person or appearance.

  His ears flicked about. Like a cat in sleep’s and Yusaku took a breath. He decided to do something a little embarrassing. He raised his hands further from the boy’s face and to the top of his head. Yusaku pinched his ears and scratched behind them.

  “Soft… cute…” he found himself mumbling aloud. Again, he was haunted by a strangely familiar sensation.

  He had done this before. He had met this person before and done these things before. He swallowed and Yusaku decided that he ought to do that which he shouldn’t. He let go of the boy’s ears and then grasped the arrow.

  Yusaku’s fingers wound around the body of the arrow, tightly, and then he yanked. A brilliant light spilt forth from the boy’s body – pinkish-violet – instead of blood as Yusaku pulled out the arrow. When its head was removed from the body, there was no indentation to indicate it had been lodged there. And the arrow itself shattered. Splintered. It scattered over Yusaku.

  The boy began to rouse. He opened his eyes, slowly and groggily, and he found his voice: “…My love, is that you?” He began to slip from his place against the tree, the vines falling off of him and disintegrating.

  Yusaku’s eyes widened. He had heard those words before, but where…? When?

  His eyes fluttered open and his pupils were slit-like. His voice bubbled up through his throat and a great anger came over him.

  “What the hell? Why the hell would you do that to me?!” he yelled.

  He lunged at Yusaku and tackled into him. They both landed with a thump. He straddled Yusaku and grabbed his neck. His long fingernails, like claws, dug into the skin.

  “What are you talking about?!” Yusaku yelled; alarmed that this was the second time he had been attacked by something definitively inhuman.

  The boy paused. He sniffed Yusaku’s face and squinted. “Fuck.” he mumbled. “I’ve got the wrong person… So, who the hell are you and why do you look so much like Yusei?”

  “Yusei…?” Yusaku echoed. “I – I don’t know anyone by that name. My name is Yusaku.”

  “Well,” he said, and he began to draw back, “it’s good to meet you, Yusaku. I’m Takeru, I get called the Half-Tiger a lot though. I’m pretty famous, you probably know of me.”

  Yusaku grimaced. He was becoming all the more certain now. He really had fallen back through time – and into some sort of distant, fantastical past at that. But how did he explain that to someone like Takeru?

  And, slightly awkward, what was this feeling building in his chest? Why did he feel as though he knows Takeru from something way before any of this? And why was he feeling twinged with jealousy that Takeru’s initial fondness unto him, had been misguided?

  It all very much concerned Yusaku who had plenty more concerns as well. Most of them related to how was he going to return to the present, to Den City?


	22. Day 15 - Free Day (Meet the Parents)

  Ever since they children, this was something that Spectre had always wanted to do together with Ryoken. That was, of course, introduce his beloved Ryoken to his mother. Or, at the very least, what remained of her and the memories imbued in such remains.

  As children, when infancy seemed so much closer, Spectre had desperately wanted to take Ryoken on the adventure and a half that was required to trek into the mountains, so his two most important beings could meet. Even if all Ryoken was meeting was the aftermath of such an existence. Still, it was important enough for Spectre to decide that it was something that ought to happen.

  It had been pounded into his head that whilst he might have newer freedoms living with Ryoken and his carers, it didn’t mean he could be the escape artist that he was back at the orphanage. Although, Spectre always retorted that he’d barely call it artistry. No one ever looked out for him or anything. They let him go missing; not just for the Lost Incident but for many stints before and after it. Still, he had too much heat. If he wanted to stay, he had to stay in line.

  However, now a decade later unto his body, it was possible that he could go unrecognised. After all, time changes things but now with a decade unto the world, spectre worried that not even the memorial trunk of his mother might remain. Nonetheless, Ryoken finally decided it was time. It was something of a treat for spectre’s next birthday; for the anniversary of Spectre becoming part of the household.

  So, they went.

  It was nerve-wracking at first. They wore nondescript clothes over their usual, more smart casual looks. They wore caps to throw shadows over their faces; just in case there was that possibility that someone would remember the ghost child who seemingly ceased to exist over a decade ago.

  They chose a route that avoided the orphanage as much as possible. But, it was unavoidable. The path to his mother that Spectre had embedded in his memory was centred on using the orphanage as a point of interest and he, as much as he disliked it, he couldn’t work out from mapping and hypotheticals alone another way to the clearing of his birth. So, they drew in as close as they could without ever truly bisecting with the orphanage.

  In doing so, they remembered how bittersweet it was, in hindsight, that no one had come for Spectre looking. As children, that had been something they rejoiced so they didn’t have to part. As adults, they realised it was a testimony as to how much of society had failed Spectre. But Spectre didn’t mind. He had rejected society as much as it had rejected him, after all. Yet, in his absence, the orphanage seemed strangely the same. The same blue walls, the same pink rugs. New equipment though for the children to play on, though. As well as some other décor choices. But, for the most part, as they glimpsed by, it seemed exactly the same.

  Once they ducked into the forest and hid among the trees, they felt better about being unseen. Spectre’s heart pounded with each step. He had hoped for this moment for a good many years and now, it was on the verge of fruition. Ryoken would flash smiles once in a while that seemed to be of faith that she would still be there.

  They walked, hand in hand, until they made it to a clearing. It was a sizeable distance away from the orphanage. It was undoubtedly a day’s walk for if you were a child of eight or so. But, it was slightly shorter with their longer legs and more adult stamina. Although, in all consideration, the distance concerned Ryoken – had it truly taken so long for them find an unwanted baby?

  The clearing was refreshing; soft green grass and the outskirts were graced with tall trees. It all seemed so well nourished here. There was a scent in the air which wasn’t sweet, but it was enticing; it possessed the slight taste of fresh water. It was nice.

  And, of course, there was the centrepiece of it: a huge stump. It came up to, perhaps, their knees or maybe just under.

  Spectre’s lower lip wobbled. His eyes watered. He remembered her remains being taller; coming up to his waist. Had he truly gotten so tall in the last decade? But, fortunately, she remained. And, truly, that is all which mattered. Ryoken gave Spectre’s hand a squeeze. Spectre looked up from the trunk and glanced at Ryoken. He smiled weakly and Ryoken gave him a gently urging look.

  Spectre took a breath. “Mother, there’s someone I want you to meet… He means the world to me; I love him with my whole heart… Mother? This is Ryoken. I – I’ve wanted to tell you about him for so long.” His voice broke; tears edging along his eyes and dripping down his cheeks, even.

  Ryoken let go of Spectre’s hand and instead, wrapped his arm around Spectre’s waist. He nuzzled in.

  “It’s good to finally meet you…” Ryoken said.


End file.
